


You and Me and The Moon (makes 3)

by cognomen



Series: Only a Paper Moon [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Complete, Fake Marriage, M/M, On the Run, Pack Politics, Strained parental relationships, Two wolfmen and a baby, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Witches, adults talking to each other about serious things like adults, responsible decisions, werewolf transformations as a discussion of gender politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 33,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/pseuds/cognomen
Summary: "They claimed he was acting on his own," Finn says. He doesn't sound convinced. "The pack leader discredited his actions and said they were unsanctioned.""I got a cracked collarbone, you got thirty stitches and we're supposed to believe that no one sent that murder machine?" Poe asks, leaning his bruised back against the counter across from Finn. "You came hundreds of miles to claim Sanctuary, he didn't just run across us by accident."Poe exists on the outskirts of his pack; they say he's cursed, but he just wants to live his life as best he can. He and pack newcomer, Finn, are doing their best to make the new relationship work, while the rest of the Were-world teeters on the brink of returning to the violence of the days before the Pact Accords. When a change suddenly comes into Poe and Finn's life, Finn sees it as an opportunity, but Poe's not so sure. After all, his change has never brought him anything good...





	1. Chapter 1

"They claimed he was acting on his own," Finn says. He doesn't sound convinced. "The pack leader discredited his actions and said they were unsanctioned."

"I got a cracked collarbone, you got thirty stitches and we're supposed to believe that no one sent that murder machine?" Poe asks, leaning his bruised back against the counter across from Finn. "You came hundreds of miles to claim Sanctuary, he didn't just run across us by accident."

"They're not saying it wasn't deliberate," Finn says. "I brought a picture of what it looked like under the porch so they couldn't say it was just a fluke."

He and Poe had gone and cleaned up the space under there with the hose, erasing the old blood and scent marks before repairing the lattice. It felt like only a small step toward repairing things after the attack, but a necessary one.

"The other Alphas agreed with Leia that they're suspicious, but they have to give the First Order a chance to fix the issue themselves," Finn explains. "To try and keep the peace, if that's still possible."

"Do you think it is?" Poe asks, watching Finn to try and measure his reaction.

Finn takes a deep breath. "I don't know. Maybe if everybody agrees to surrender to all of the First Order's ideals but..."

He doesn't have to finish the sentence. No werewolf will ever allow another pack to dominate their own without a fight. It's just the nature - _ha, ha,_ \- of the beast.

"Things are going to change again," Poe says.

Finn nods. "The question is _when_. How soon until they're ready?"

"Don't suppose you have any insight?" Poe asks, shifting his weight and feeling his hurts flare up.

"They won't leave Kylo Ren out in the cold for long," Finn says. "They still need him, and dangerous as he is, he's just one person. Wolf. Thing.

"Let me guess, if anyone goes after him, they'll use it as an excuse to fight back without having to own up to starting the hostilities?" Poe theorizes, his heart getting heavier.

"That's not odds I would bet against," Finn admits, and they both sigh.

"How was it here?" Finn asks, to change the subject.

Poe's not ready for the question, but he tries his best not to let Finn see any genuine reaction. He has the discipline to turn his thoughts away from the last couple days. He glosses over Jom Barell's visit in his mind.

"I missed you," Poe says, earnestly. That part's true.

Finn almost seems to sense that there is more to Poe's answer. He crosses the kitchen and gathers Poe in his arms, pulling Poe against his chest in a comforting embrace instead of asking for the answer Poe's not ready to give.

It engulfs him in reassuring contact, wrapping Poe in his scent, reuniting them in real, tangible ways.

"Tell me about it later?" Finn asks.

Poe nods. He'll have to, eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Abuse mentions in this section.

Finn finds the bruises later, and he has to stop everything for a few minutes as he comprehends what they mean. They're big and dark on Poe's back, bitten into his shoulders and arms - a dozen or more. None very serious, but it has to hurt.

Poe won't look at him, laid out on the bed that's become theirs by sharing, his chin on his forearms and his eyes on the small loft fireplace. He's far away, trying to distance himself from the evidence on his skin.

They're bite marks, and Finn sees enough of the pattern to recognize it. A whole group, and a coordinated effort to severely chastise a lower ranking member of the pack. He's seen it happen in the First Order once or twice - enough to have a clear image in his mind that _almost_ makes his blood boil.

"It's alright," Poe says, still looking into the fire. His voice, low, even - overwhelmingly sad - cuts through the red haze filming over Finn's vision.

The bruises have vivid purple centers, fading to green edges. It had probably happened right after Finn left. _It's not alright at all._

Finn leans down and presses a kiss to the bruise at the small of Poe's back. He feels Poe shiver; the way his body tenses up at the first contact, and then slowly, like a held breath released at last, relaxes. Once he knows that his instincts are wrong - that the intent is not to hurt, Poe goes easy and quiet.

Finn kisses the next bruise, and the next, smoothing over the undamaged parts of his back with his palms. Touching him and feeling that as bad as it looks, Poe is still whole and strong. 

It's a slow process, but Poe shifts under Finn as he supports himself over his back on one elbow. Poe's body feels warm, and he pushes up for more contact. 

"What do you need?" Finn asks, touching the back of Poe's neck gently, glad that at least there's no bruises there.

"You," Poe says simply. He pushes his hands flat against the bed and pushes up until his back is pressed against Finn's front. "A chance for things to return to normal before they get all out of whack again."

"Mmm," Finn says, his mouth pressed against Poe's hairline. "That's a pretty tall order."

"Top shelf," Poe agrees, sighing out. Finn feels his chest expand and contract as his lungs fill and empty. "But a tall guy like you can reach it."

Finn laughs at his bad pun; like he laughs at all of Poe's bad puns, and tries not to feel like 'normal' is too far away. They've barely had a chance to mark that compass point yet.

Poe pushes himself up against Finn again, and this time Finn wraps his arms around Poe's hips and pulls them both over onto their sides. He wants to let go, and promises himself he will after this last question.

"What do you want to do about it?" Finn asks.

Poe turns his head to look at Finn over his shoulder, and Finn can tell, even from this angle, that he's grinning like Finn's just given him a golden setup again.

"If I say I just want to do you, how will you feel about it?"

Finn pulls him closer, thinking he feels pretty good about it, actually.


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Poe wakes sprawled over the length of the bed, muscles sore in equally good and bad ways. The last week is written on his skin and under it. All the ways he's been touched are a memory or an ache. He reaches across the expanse of the bed until his fingertips find Finn's warm side.

The space beneath the blankets is warm, soothing; he feels protected here, like he had as a child. But when he moves, the old bruises move with him and Poe remembers their presence.

He has to deal with it sometime, but it's difficult. There's already so much that the pack is dealing with,and to have to deal with internal discord at the same time is—well—Poe wishes he could just forget about it. 

Finn stirs and Poe leans up, resting on one elbow to watch Finn blink himself awake. His sleep-face is very cute, easy and relaxed. Untroubled, not that he ever looks half as worried as he should about things. This is like the absence of anything Poe wants to avoid in life. Then, when he wakes, Finn's eyes animate. They blink open and begin to move and grow warm when the sunlight fills them and he looks at Poe.

"What?" Finn asks, reaching for Poe automatically when he realizes he's being watched.

Poe goes, settling against Finn's side, breathing in the overnight smells - morning breath and 'maybe it's too warm for all these flannel blankets' sweat and real, human stuff he doesn't mind at all. Poe hums a bar and eases his mouth against Finn's ear, indulging a whim.

"Good morning starshine," he sings, low and slow. "The earth says 'hello'."

Finn groans, getting his arms around Poe's shoulders and wrestling him over.

Poe raises his voice, "You twinkle above us, we'll twinkle below."

He punctuates his words but getting his hand cupped over the front of Finn's boxers, easing his palm against the soft bulge beneath.

Finn, in return, laughs and groans at the same time. "You are absolutely the _cheesiest_ -"

His words fade into a sigh as he starts to get hard in Poe's grip, as Poe strikes him right through the thin cotton material.

"Am I?" Poe asks, still humming a little.

"Yes!" Finn gasps. "Please don't do the chorus, I'll never cum."

"Never?" Poe wonders, playful. "I could keep you right here forever, with just a little 'gliddy glub gloopy'...?"

"Poe!" Finn scolds, gasping and laughing. 

Poe obliges both of them, getting his hand into Finn's boxers and onto hot, firm skin. Finn pushes his hips down into Poe's long, slow strokes, elbows braced on either side of his head and eyes closed.

This expression - Finn lost in pleasure and focused on the moment, responding to Poe's touch like they're the only two people in the world - it's _everything_ Poe really wants in life. Just simply to exist, be safe, love and be loved.

"Poe," Finn repeats in an entirely different tone, pushing his cheek against Poe's so he can feel Finn's racing breath against his ear.

"I gotcha, puppy," Poe promises, picking up the pace, feeling the way Finn's body is winding up against his own until he goes over, splashing Poe's palm and belly with his release. Poe strokes him through the rest, slickly, and thinks that all those early morning person-scents are made much better with the addition of the earthy, musty, sex smell.

But, maybe that's just positive association. He waits for Finn to catch his breath and then starts humming the chorus again until Finn groans and puts his hand gently over Poe's face and gets up.

"Alright, man," Finn says. "The entire cast of _Hair_ called, it's time to rejoin this century, and take a shower."

Later, after they've started their morning routine, Poe hears Finn softly singing the refrain as he gets lunch together in the kitchen. Then he stops abruptly and raises his voice just enough for Poe to hear as he feeds the chicks in the sun room.

"I hate you," Finn says, in exactly the same tone of voice he uses to say 'I love you'.


	4. Chapter 4

Finn wants the rest of the story, but he doesn't want to push Poe for it. He has enough in bites and bruises to build a part of the picture, and he doesn't like any of it. Least of all the idea that they'd waited until all of the council and the Alpha herself were away - dealing with something that should have been bigger than worrying about what was happening behind their backs. 

In the afternoon, he takes B.B. for a walk and goes to speak to Jess. Maybe it's a little like going behind Poe's back, but he wants to know who is involved, exactly. He wants to be informed when he takes this to Statura and Leia.

Jess answers his knock in a pair of PJ bottoms and a tank top.

"Is this a bad time?" Finn asks, suddenly wondering if he'd gotten the time wrong somehow.

"What?" Jess asks. "No, it's just laundry day, Council-Member."

"Finn is still fine," he says.

She grins at him, cocking her hip and winking. "I dunno, I kinda like 'Council-Member', it gives me a chance to say _member_ without getting in trouble."

Jess puts enough stress on the word that the ghost of Finn's old pack instructor wakes up in the back of his mind to make disapproving faces. Finn disregards it.

"Uh, please don't call me anything with 'member' in it," Finn says. "Ever."

Jess rolls one shoulder up in a 'your loss' fashion, grinning at him.

"C'mon inside,' she says, gesturing for him and B.B. both to enter. "What can I do for you, besides use your name?"

Finn scrapes snow off his boots before he steps inside, and B.B. shakes off on the matt before making himself at home by the fire.

"I was wondering if you heard of anything happening while I was gone?" Finn asks, feeling things out.

"Uh, there was a Howling. You were there," Jess says. She leads him into her messy kitchen, and pulls herself up onto the bare patch of countertop next to the microwave.

"I meant here," Finn clarifies. She kicks her legs out a little, swinging them for the motion in a girlish way.

"Mm, not much," she says, clearly trying to think back. "Things have been really quiet. Folks were a little worried that there might be another First Order attack, but none came. They organized like a response team, but we practically chased that guy all the way back to Canada the first time."

Poe hasn't told anyone, Finn realizes. He's kept it to himself, either because he doesn't want to make more trouble or because he thinks nothing can be done.

"What's this about, Finn?" Jess asks, kicking her feet again, watching him with her head tilted, likely having picked up on his mood.

"Who do you think would go after Poe, if given the chance?" Finn asks, wishing he had something to fidget with. He feels anxious.

"Whoa, wait," she says. "Is he okay? I just saw him two days ago."

"He's okay," Finn says. "But really banged up. Someone went after him to hurt him. A group of someones."

Jess shows her teeth and jumps off the counter. "I'll kill someone."

Finn believes her. "Maybe death isn't the first answer. Do you have some likely suspects we could talk to?"

"There's no point talking to those damn cowards," Jess growls. "They're too stupid to see the truth right in front of them. You gotta answer an attack with an attack or they'll never understand they shouldn't do it!"

Finn makes a soothing gesture, and Jess realizes she's barking at the chorus. She takes a deep breath, rubbing the back of her neck. 

"It was probably led by Jom. He's got testosterone backed up and pouring out his _ears_ ," Jess growls. "He thinks he's the next pack leader and he's not happy unless he's throwing his weight around and people are listening to him."

Finn is familiar with Jom Barell - a big, square-cut man who practically screamed 'werewolf'. He looked - and sounded - like a logger extra from a Clint Eastwood movie.

He talks big, but Finn had wondered if he _actually_ meant any of it. Clearly, if he thought he could get away with it, and had a group backing him. 

"Who else?" Finn

"Brentin Wexley is a good bet for second," Jess reveals.

"Snap's dad?"

"You may have noticed they don't exactly get along," Jess says. "We all know that Brentin doesn't approve of some of his son's choices. Poe's just an excuse - like a figurehead for all the things Brentin doesn't wanna cop to."

Finn looks at Jess with new respect - she puts on this front of being touch and apathetic, but she shows a lot of understanding of her fellow pack members.

"What?" Jess asks him - apparently his expression betrays his inner thoughts. "I hear stuff."

"No, I believe you," Finn assures her. "I just didn't expect to get that in depth."

"You're still new," Jess says. "People are careful to be polite and hide all their garbage. Eventually, when they relax, you'll see the other side of the picture."

"I'm already starting to," Finn says.

"Are we gonna kick some ass?" Jess asks, cracking her knuckles.

"Let me try my way, first," Finn says. "Poe isn't talking about it so I want to try and handle it under the table."

"Just be careful," Jess says. "And if you need any backup, just call me on the twilight bark. I'll be there faster than a blink."

Finn believes her.


	5. Chapter 5

_Something's up._

Poe catches Finn that afternoon looking distracted, thinking and looking into the middle distance. It would be more pensive and brooding if he wasn't cuddling a fluffy black-and-yellow chick in his big, brown hands. It's one of eight - Snap had won the pot.

"You're going to spoil them," Poe says, feeling his heart warm up.

"You can't spoil a chicken," Finn says, rubbing his thumb over the tiny head.

"I beg to differ," Poe says, stretching his back out and considering their options for a very late dinner.

"How can you resist picking them up?" Finn asks - he'd returned to the here and now pretty quickly. Poe wonders which of their worries he was ruminating on.

"I've been pooped on a few times," Poe says, practically, "and those tiny beaks can really pinch when they want them to."

Finn displays the tiny, completely relaxed chick. It _is_ pretty cute. "Do you see what you're defaming?"

Poe laughs. "Don't worry, Chickens are immune to slander."

Finn carries the bird back into the sunroom and comes back with two cherry tomatoes, chewing a third.

"What's eating you?" Poe asks, deciding on pasta with the inspiration of tomatoes.

"Nothing," Finn says, grinning at Poe with a mouth full of tomato. "I'm at the top of the food chain."

Poe had practically _asked_ for that. It's a terrible joke, but he laughs at it anyway. Finn watches him move around the kitchen and pitches in when he finds the rhythm of Poe's idea.

"Spaghetti or Penne?" Finn asks.

"Uh, pick one," Poe says. "And grab the Lasagna strips too, since I'm opening the pasta sauce."

Finn returns with the two blue boxes requested.

"You want to work on today's dinner or the frozen lasagna?" Poe asks, when Finn sets them on the counter at his elbow.

Finn puts his arms around Poe's middle at the sink. He leans against Poe's back, sweetly distracting him with a kiss on the back of his neck.

Poe closes his eyes and lets himself be aware of this moment, leaning back as the big pot fills with water.

"I always just bought mine already frozen," Finn confesses. "But I can handle spaghetti."

Poe laughs, "Alright, city puppy, here's your water."

They work well together. It's easy and comfortable. Poe gets to work soaking the pasta for the lasagna and making the filling. The company turns a regular day into something strangely wonderful.

"I was thinking about your bad luck," Finn says, as he waits for the water to boil.

 _Funny,_ , Poe thinks, _I was just considering how lucky I am._

"People are just tense," Poe says.

"Don't defend them, Poe," Finn says.

Poe sighs out. He can still feel the impression of teeth against his skin. It's vague, a wolf-memory of being surrounded, of being set upon from all sides and knowing that no help was coming.

"Border guards or not, if you aren't safe here," Finn says, '"we can leave."

Poe takes a deep breath, somewhere between a layer of cheese and a layer of meat. There's raw, cold hamburger in his hands and he's standing in his own kitchen.

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Poe asks, expecting it to sound harsh - but it just comes out soft and tired. "You're right, there _is_ a lot to talk about, I just..."

Poe doesn't want to. Not _yet_ or not _now_ , and maybe not ever.

"Yeah," Finn says. "Okay, I'm sorry."

Poe manages a half-smile. Gets himself together. "Finn."

Finn looks up at him, the box of spaghetti held anxiously in his hands.

Poe sinks in Finn's earnest brown eyes, trying to find enough words to tell him how much he means in Poe's life.

"I-" he starts.

Someone knocks on the front door.


	6. Chapter 6

There's an unfamiliar young woman on his doorstep. It's not as he expected - Snap or Jess or any of their pack members. She's got a backpack and a bundle in her arms and a determined expression that she targets onto Poe like a laser-sight when he opens the door.

"Are you Poe Dameron?" she says, just before pushing past him into his house. "I need to see Alpha Organa."

"Uh," Poe says, he really does wonder about his luck some days. But he's sure that she's not - positive that he'd smell it. "You're not a werewolf."

Which is a stupid thing to say if she really isn't.

"No," she says, vehemently. "I just know about them."

"You're not a vampire, are you?" Poe asks, leaning back out of her immediate reach.

She gives Poe a frank look like it's a ludicrous question. "Vampires aren't real."

"Uh, yeah they are," Finn puts in, moving into the hallway to help Poe intercept her path from the living room. "There was a ginger one who used to hang out with the leaders of my pack. It was weird. No one really liked him, but he was there all the time."

"The First Order has vampires?" Poe asks.

Finn holds up one finger, indicating exactly how many vampires.

"I'm not a Vampire," the girl cuts in. 

Poe guesses she probably doesn't smell anything like a vampire. It's more - green. Like the grass after you mow it, or when the forest gets pounded by a storm, wet-and-pine. There's something - _else_ \- some low copper ozone scent. Lightning.

"Okay so you're not a vampire," Poe agrees. "You're also not a Werewolf. What are you doing here?"

"I need," she starts.

Poe's gut twists up like one of those race-dogs. _Here we go again._

"To see Pack Leader Organa," she repeats, looking confused by the anxious expression that must be on Poe's face.

Poe lets out a breath. "For a second I thought you were going to ask for Sanctuary."

"Not a werewolf," she reminds, "and no one does that anymore."

"I've had kind of a weird year," Poe tells her.

"Are you complaining?" Finn asks, teasing.

Poe looks back at Finn. " _Parts_ of it have been amazing. The rest?"

She looks back and forth between both of them and then shifts the bundle in her arms up a little, as if to remind them that she's carrying a burden.

Poe's about to ask if she'd like some coffee when an unmistakable odor reaches his nose.

"Is that a baby?" Finn asks.

The young woman looks at the pair of them as if they are obtuse.

Poe sighs, inviting a stranger into his den for the second time in under six months. "Why don't you sit down in the living room?"

She sweeps by him with no regard for personal space and he catches a flash of pink skin and wrinkled features to go with the diaper smell he'd picked up earlier.

B.B. gives a startled bark as she enters the living room.

"Hello," she tells the dog before settling on the couch.

Poe can only trade looks with Finn.

"Is it urgent?" Poe asks, checking the time idly. It's after ten - Leia might be asleep. He wants to be sure it can't wait before he sends Finn to face waking up the old wolf.

"Pretty urgent," she says.

"Like, can't-wait-until-morning urgent?" Poe clarifies. 

She considers this. Then the bundle in her arms. Poe hears Finn in the kitchen, getting the pots off the stove. Maybe they can offer her dinner.

"Do you have any diapers?" she asks.

Poe shakes his head, looking at Finn when he peeks out from the kitchen as if his answer might be different. It's such an unusual situation - not like they can just run to the store.

"I think I have some old towels?" Poe offers, lamely. "They're clean."

"That'll do," she says, setting the baby on the couch and beginning to unfold the blanket. Poe scrambles to get the old towels together, and a few wet cloths for the rest of the cleaning duty before the contents of the diaper are fully exposed. Two werewolves have to live here, after all.

He leans over to Finn as he passes with the supplies.

"Sorry, buddy, you better go get Leia. Maybe see if the Antilles' have any spare diapers?"

Finn nods, departing through the back door quickly enough to escape the smell.


	7. Chapter 7

Her name, Poe learns, is Rey. She's carrying two obvious things - one, the baby; a girl whose name she will not give him. Two, a backpack with a staff slung on it against her back. For protection, maybe. She doesn't seem to need it to walk. 

"You guys are really out here," she observes, as Poe helps her dispose of the dirty diaper and pin on the makeshift replacement.

"Well, werewolves like privacy," Poe says. It had taken three grocery bags wrapped tightly around the dirty diaper to dull the smell. He puts it in the outside trash.

Rey re-wraps the baby in her blanket, and B.B. gives the resulting bundle a curious sniff before turning the cold shoulder on the baby. B.B. rallies to Poe's side next to the fireplace, and Poe scratches behind his ears comfortingly.

"Not _this_ private, usually," Rey says. "I know plenty of werewolves who have the internet."

"Well," Poe says, "I don't really miss it."

"Don't know many werewolves with pet dogs, though," she says, wry.

_I guarantee that's not the only thing about me she'd find unusual,_ he thinks.

"Is she yours?" Poe asks, trying to make different small talk.

Rey shifts the baby against her shoulder, looking proud of herself. "No. I stole her."

" _Stole_ -" Poe starts. He can almost feel an oncoming headache. "Who steals a baby?"

"I did," Rey says, rocking the whole bundle of baby and blankets as if to prove how easy it was. "For a good cause."

"A good-" Poe starts, looking closely at her. She doesn't _look_ crazy. "What are you talking about?"

Poe wonders if letting her in - not that he'd had much choice - was really a good idea after all.

Rey just gives him a long, mysterious look and Poe wonders how old she really is. At first, he'd thought younger, but there's something about her...

She looks back at him, measuring just as much with her gaze as he's trying to do with his.

"I like the solitude," she says, at last. "I could get used to this."

"Even without the internet?" Poe says, wary of taking in any more strays - even if the last one had worked out okay.

"The internet is overrated," Rey decides, investigating his kitchen. "Can I have some? I'm starving."

Poe feeds her, even knowing the old adage about giving meals to strays.


	8. Chapter 8

Leia comes to meet her at Poe's house instead of calling an official meeting of the Alpha's council or even having Poe bring Rey to her house. He and Finn are dismissed onto the porch.

They both bring blankets and pull their chairs closer together against the late January cold. Poe lights a cigar for his nerves, careful to let the smoke drift away from the house. Finn takes his other hand under the blanket, warm and reassuring.

"Did she say anything?" Finn asks first, leaning over and keeping his tone low. They're both trying not to spy on the conversation inside, but it's hard not to be curious.

"She stole that baby," Poe says, needing to share his discovery. It makes him feel like the sort of gossip-monger that he dislikes so much - the sort that had kept Poe pinned down and obedient for so long.

But, Poe never stole a baby - he never even stole third base.

"She what?" Finn asks, turning a disbelieving look on Poe. "From where?"

Poe actually hadn't thought to ask this perfectly reasonable question. "Dunno, buddy. She said something about it being for a good cause."

"What?" Finn asks, the skin over the bridge of his nose wrinkling up in confusion. "How does that work?"

Poe resists the wolfish instinct to clear the scrunch of confusion off his mate's face by licking his nose. It probably wouldn't go over well, at least in the middle of a semi-serious conversation.

"Dunno that either," Poe says, exhaling smoke. "Did our Alpha say anything when you told her?'

Finn thinks back, like he's searching for the exact words.

"Yeah, she said it was about time," Finn says. "Which was weird because she'd just gotten done warning me that if I ever woke her up again and our territory wasn't burning down she was going to uh, reprimand me."

Poe tries to restrain a laugh. "Reprimand?"

"Something like, 'throw you down by your neck and rabbit-kick you until the First Order looked good again'," Finn clarifies.

Poe covers his mouth to contain his giggles.

"Looked like she'd do it, too," Finn says, seeming a little stunned by his first encounter with Leia's scary side.

As Poe tries to rein in his laughter - Finn's so wide-eyed and earnest that some of it _has_ to be an act to get Poe to laugh - he overhears some of the conversation from inside.

"The First Order is just testing the waters now," Rey's voice carries because her tone is firm. "Seeing what they can get away with before they move in earnest."

"But if we make the first move, we're only giving them the excuse they want," Leia says. "And once that cat's out of the bag, there's no putting it back."

Finn and Poe trade looks, and then by mutual agreement, lean a little closer to the window.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Leia steps out again, finding them sitting outside in the cold, she looks distant, like her thoughts are far away.

She seems surprised to see them there.

"You still smoke those things?" she asks Poe, after a moment.

"Only outside, ma'am," Poe says. He'd picked the habit up in the Air Force.

Leia holds out her hand, and Poe turns over his half-smoked cigar without hesitation. When the Alpha asks for what's in your mouth, there are very few situations where it's appropriate to refuse.

She takes a deep, bracing mouthful of smoke without wincing - she's tough as nails and knows better than to breathe it into her lungs.

Pushing the smoke out through her teeth, she says, "Do you want the good news first?"

It implies there will be bad news, too. Poe trades a look with Finn.

"How bad is the bad news?" Finn asks.

Leia looks thoughtful, like she's weighing it on the scale of her experience. She doesn't give Poe his cigar back.

"The First Order is going to come looking for the kid," Leia says. 

"The baby?" Poe asks. "What do they want with a baby?"

"Bloodline," Leia says.

Finn and Poe are both surprised by this.

"I didn't think the First Order put much stock in that sort of thing," Finn says.

"They at least believe in the power it has over others," Leia says.

"Okay," Poe says. "What's so special about this baby?"

"We don't quite know," Leia admits. "Rey says she'll definitely have power, but..."

"What kind of power?" Poe asks.

"If I could tell you that, I would," Leia says. "If we can locate her parents, I'll have a better idea."

Poe feels like he's missing a lot of the story. He has scattered points that he's trying to draw a line through. 

"Any idea where they are?" Finn asks.

"I wish I knew," Leia says. "I've got my nose to the wind, but nothing's scented yet."

So, Leia had been expecting Rey's arrival, at least to some extent.

"The bad news is we have to keep the baby away from the First Oder," she says. "And they're already paying attention to us."

"Sorry," Finn says.

"It's not your fault, Finn," Leia says. "I was hoping that we would have more time, that things would even out somehow. The truth is, signs have been pointing to a power struggle for a while now. It's just like it was before aggression broke out the first time."

She takes another long drag from Poe's cigar, handing him back the dog-end of it.

"I'm going to need you to quit," she tells him, as he puts it to his mouth.

Poe coughs halfway through his next puff.

"Why?" he asks, feeling anxious about something in her tone and expression.

"Because I have a mission for you two," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you shouldn't smoke around a baby."


	10. Chapter 10

Later, Finn finds he just can't stop grinning. He knows he should be worried, that things are dangerous, that they're going out there on their own and the First Order will still be after them. But, he can't stop his excitement, either.

_Who else gets a chance to try out the life they want before they make it permanent?_

The circumstances won't be ideal, and Finn's sure there will be plenty of hardships, but it will be good practice. Besides, if they can do this under this kind of pressure, Finn's pretty sure they'll be fine for the long haul, when the real thing happens.

Poe looks a lot more serious about the prospect. Finn gets why he would be - there's a lot to worry about and the world even in this relatively sheltered place, hasn't been very good to him. Poe's worry is understandable - if it's this bad here, how will it be out there.

_But,_ Finn thinks, _he's a hell of a lot stronger than they give him credit for._

"What are you grinning for?" Poe asks, as Finn packs his socks.

"It's like a road trip with my favourite person and a kid," Finn says.

"A baby," Poe reminds, and Finn can hear the extra responsibility in his tone. "And like a magic baby that the First Order wants like the Nazis in 'The Last Crusade' wanted the holy grail, by the way."

Finn laughs, reaching for Poe to pull him into a comforting hug. Finn levers Poe back over his forearm and kisses him in a half-dip like one of those old movies. It's long and slow and deep and Poe relaxes slowly into it. Finn pulls back only a little when he's done kissing Poe. 

"You'd look really good in a leather fedora," Finn tells him. "Maybe not as good as Harrison Ford..."

Poe laughs, his grip gentle as Finn sets him back on his feet. "Admit it, you had a crush on Indiana Jones."

"Guilty," Finn says. He looks slyly at Poe. "Whip optional."

"It's a bit like the plot of a bad movie anyway," Poe says, his tone a little less worried than it had been, previously. "Pretending to be married, holding fake jobs..."

"Something from the 80's," Finn agrees.

"That's probably the last time I watched a movie anyway," Poe says.

Finn laughs. "Weren't you in the Air Force for a while?"

"Yes, I've seen _Top Gun_ ," Poe says, turning back to packing.

"Well I mean you haven't been out here your whole life," Finn says, half a question. "Didn't you get out more when you were in the service?"

"Getting out was something I had to avoid doing," Poe reminds. "I was trying to hide what I am from the pack I was part of, there."

Finn hates that Poe had to - that he still has to think that way about who he is.

"Well, you don't have to hide from me," Finn says. "We could go to the movies any time you want."

Finn hopes Poe will be comfortable enough for that someday. He offers further enticement, "we can hold hands, share popcorn..."

Poe laughs. "It's twenty-seventeen and I'm thirty-three years old."

Finn holds his hands, looking Poe in the eyes. "Are you telling me you're too old to hold hands?"

"Nah," Poe says. "Just that we'd have to get a sitter to go to the movies now, and I don't think B.B. is qualified."

B.B. thumps his tail on the bed, hearing his name.

Finn grins, leaning in to take advantage of an opportunity he can't pass up. "B.B. is the most qualified ' _sitter_ ' we have."

"Well, he listens better than you do when I give commands," Poe says, lowering his tone into something suggestive.

"Try me," Finn dares Poe, feigning a hurt expression. "Tell me to beg?"

Poe's eyes get that light in them, brilliant and interested. Finn smiles back, feeling that hot-wire-against-his-spine sensation of arousal start to wake up.

"We have company," Poe reminds. "And, we're supposed to be packing."

He throws a pile of roughly folded shirts into his suitcase as if in demonstration. Finn allows that it's probably not polite - especially since their loft is open down to the living room below. He stops touching Poe only reluctantly.

"Have you ever met anyone in the other packs?" Finn asks, after a moment of folding and packing.

"Uh, a few," Poe admits. "In the summer, all the kids from the state usually go to Cub Camp. Just for werewolves. It helps teach heritage and stuff."

He smiles - just a little - as he says it. Finn guesses these are good memories. From before his first change, when he still had regular plans and dreams for his life. Then, the smile fades on Poe's features. 

"Not since I was a kid, though. Maybe some remember me," he says. "We'll find out."

Finn decides he'll be on guard. He knows Poe will already be, but they'll take care of each other _and_ the baby. That's the mission. They have to keep the kid out of the First Order's hands until Rey can find her parents.

Two lone werewolves, moving from pack to pack. Some would harbor them. Others, they'd have to hope didn't notice them trespassing on their territory.


	11. Chapter 11

Rey spends the night on Poe's couch, with the fire banked up and warming the whole cabin. Poe watches the shadows move on the ceiling and listens to Finn's deep, slow breaths. He can hear Rey, too, faintly. She snores just a little. Probably from her unusual position on the couch, no matter how many pillows Poe had dug up for her.

The baby, he can't detect. She sleeps silently, with her makeshift diaper exchanged for one of the disposables that Finn had gotten from the Antilles family. Poe wonders if that's normal - if babies are quiet when they sleep by some evolutionary design for protection.

_Is it like a fawn, laying perfectly still to avoid predators?_ Some advantage that had been naturally selected through the ages?

Then, Poe remembers that babies have a tendency to scream when they're hungry or wet in the diaper, so probably the only evolutionary advantage of being a quiet sleeper was that their mothers didn't die of sleep deprivation. 

Arrangements were being made to take care of Poe's cabin and homestead. He worries about the chickens - the legacy he has tying him here. He'll be falling behind in gardening, in doing the work and repairs it takes to get ready for spring. He's not sure how long they'll be gone.

Probably long enough to take him almost back to square one out here. He trusts Jess - who will be taking on the duties of border guard with the support of some of the other members of the pack. But, he'll be leaving behind his control.

The future feels tenuous. There was time when that hadn't frightened Poe, but now he knows better. He's learned where it's safe for him to be, and he's seen the results of being somewhere without protection.

These difficulties are not insurmountable - Poe will just have to be better at hiding this time. He still wonders if he's the right person to go.

_Anybody who figures me out has a pretty big clue who I am,_ he thinks. Then again, the First Order knows Finn by scent - so he isn't the only potential danger.

_We've just gotta stay ahead of them,_ Poe thinks. Be ready to move at any time. It sounds - uncomfortably - like being hunted. Like a time in the past.

Poe rolls over. On the other hand, he sees Finn's point. Underneath all the stress and danger, Poe thinks they're going to get a chance to try out being parents together - _without_ any danger of people taking Poe's differences out on the kid.

Now that the pressure of imminent even semi-permanent parenthood is here, Poe's sure he's not ready. The concept that it was even possible for him to consider parenthood is still relatively new for Poe, still creeping its way out of the theoretical space in his mind. 

He's never even baby-sat. Babies are delicate. Even if they aren't going to have her forever, they could still mess this up. Mess _her_ up.

Poe rolls over again, pressing against Finn. He makes a sleepy noise and pulls Poe close without waking, and the aura of his confidence seems to surround Poe, calming him. Slowing his worries until exhaustion catches up with him and he can sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Rey digs the remainder of a container of powdered formula out of her bag, and two plastic bottles that have seen better days. Poe resists the urge to wash them immediately. He's got enough of a measure of Rey now to suspect that she's a witch - and enough self preservation not to ask outright.

"It's better to feed her before she starts crying," is all Rey has to say on the transference of custody.

"Does..." Finn asks, suddenly anxious about holding the baby. "Does something happen when she cries?"

Rey gives him a strange look. "Emotional distress, half-burst eardrums... the usual baby stuff."

Finn looks down at the sleeping baby and experiences his first moment of doubt. He was sure - like most parents were -t hat he could eventually handle it. But he feels like he should somehow be better prepared.

_Don't most parents take some courses?_ He barely remembers his own. Finn - and most of the kids born in the First Order grew up almost free-range, raised by the whole pack. He'd had foster parents, legally, while he went to school. Back then, the pack hadn't seemed so bad.

But it hadn't really prepared Finn for - all this.

"How often does she eat?" Poe asks, practically, while Finn stares down into the baby's blue eyes and squishy features. 

Despite his inner panic, Finn is charmed.

"She eats a lot," Rey says. "Every couple hours."

"How old is she?" Poe continues asking the things they'll need to know. "When's her birthday? Does she have her shots?"

Rey laughs at him. "Eight months. She was born in June - you'll have to pick a day."

So young, Finn thinks. That's a real challenge. He supposes Rey has no medical records, no baby book, no real information about her.

"She'll be crawling soon," Leia observes. "And she can start on other food. She'll remember you."

Poe takes a deep breath, letting it out in a slow sigh. He looks at Leia, and Finn recognizes all the signs of uncertainty in his mate. 

"Are you sure you don't want to give this job to someone better qualified?" he asks, voice quiet.

Finn leans over, shoulder-to-shoulder with Poe. "We are so qualified."

Besides, Finn's been holding her for almost half an hour now and nothing has exploded. They can do this.

"We found you a car seat and some baby clothes," Leia continues, uninterrupted."The rest is up to you boys."

Finn hadn't even thought about clothes - but she's right. The basics are covered, but that's a long way from all they need.

"What do I call her?" Finn asks.

"I don't think she cares," Rey says.

"Sticks," Poe mutters.

"What?" Finn asks, sure he's misheard.

"Sticks," Poe repeats. This time Finn's sure. "It's what Madmartigan called the baby in _Willow_."

Now everyone is looking at him. Poe blushes, in a way that Finn finds cute even if it does mean his mate is embarrassed.

"It was a movie," Poe says, "nevermind."

Finn will ask him about it later. For now, they're all lingering around Poe's truck, hesitant to call themselves ready.

"Use the drive to get your story straight," Leia suggests. "The Alpha of Cloud Pack will be waiting for you. It's 8 hours to Vermont, so there's plenty of time."

She reaches out for both of them, putting her hands on their shoulders. Finn realizes it's a blessing and a bid goodbye.

"I'll be in touch as soon as I can," she says. "Hopefully we'll find where she belongs soon and we can all get back to our lives."

After a brief pause she pulls Poe into a hug. "If anything goes wrong, get in touch with your father."

Rey digs a fat envelope out of her bag, passing it to Finn. It's heavy, and he realizes it's cash only after Rey and Leia have left. Enough to take care of them for a while. He decides he doesn't want to know where she got it.

Poe stands for a moment with his hand on the back of his neck, looking at the house. B.B. hops up into the back of the truck, ready to go, and Poe sighs again, a heavy noise.

Finn misses the goodbye between Poe and the dog during the process of checking the baby seat and putting the baby into it - a process that is way more complicated than he expects.

When he looks up again, B.B. is on the porch, watching forlornly.

"Don't worry buddy," Finn mutters. "We'll be back."

"Jess will take care of him," Poe agrees. "too bad there's nobody to take care of us."

"I got you, babe," Finn says, hopping up into the passenger seat and reaching back to triple-check the car seat.

"Oh, so Sonny-and-Cher references fly, but not Willow?" Poe asks, smiling grimly as they roll out of their old life.


	13. Chapter 13

The next few days are a whirlwind for Poe. It's driving and feeding and shopping and napping, a stay in a hotel. There's a lot of lying to be done, and it makes Poe feel like a fugitive. Like anyone on the street would walk up and challenge them over the baby.

After all, he thinks, watching Finn, they are both unrelated to her. Some strange interracial family where no one is the same color, walking around a resort town. It screams 'stolen baby' to Poe, leaving him nervous and jumpy. Like strangers are dangerous to him again.

Whenever he holds her, she seems to pick up on his anxiety, becoming fussy and resistant. It hasn't been a great experience for him. _Maybe I'm not really cut out for this._

What's painful is how clear it is to Poe that Finn _is_. He just absorbs and remembers - like how much formula in a bottle, how the diapers work, all the rest. Poe feels left behind and lost. It's different to follow Finn's lead, but not necessarily in a bad way. It feels right - like Poe's natural place in the pack hierarchy, until it doesn't.

The new pack is friendly enough, supportive and interested. It makes Poe nervous. If they find him out and feel like he's been fooling or taking advantage of them, they could turn on him and Finn in an instant. It crawls like anxious uncertainty under his skin.

Their borrowed home is beautiful, at least. The pack Alpha - an old friend of Leia's named Lando - gives them free use of one of the ski lodges dotted along the resort he owns. It's colder up here than it was in Maine, but far less isolated. He hears the tourists coming and going at all hours of the night. At the very least, it's a good place to hide from the First Order. 

Poe finds himself unable to sleep. There's a noise here, a persistent hum that he can't get used to. The lodge has a balcony that looks down over the slopes, and light eases into the windows from the artificial lamps until well past eleven, when the slopes close for the evening. Poe watches figures ski down below, and ride the lift and ski again.

He wishes he hadn't left his cigars in Maine. Or the dog, or the cabin. He takes a deep breath of freezing air, hands deep in his pockets, and wonders how long until he feels safe here - and darkly; _How long after that until feeling safe betrays me?_

Inside, he hears Finn humming, getting ready for bed. Lines from 'Good Morning Starshine'.

It doesn't seem to fit out here in the cold and dark, out of place with snow on the ground and a heavy sweater saddled over his body. He feels the blues in his bones and under his skin, moving slow and restless. There's no moon, just the tall electric lights. He can't feel any part of himself that's the wolf, and in the past he'd never minded. It was a relief to feel her far away.

Now he feels lost and defenseless. The urge to transform - just transform to feel like he could, like he's still got at least one constant that's been by his side since he was a kid. He doesn't, though. Too many people outside, too much light, too much commotion.

And inside - well, he wouldn't trust any wolf around a baby. What had his parents done on full moons? Poe never thought to ask.

He hears the door slide open behind him, then close. He hears Finn's breathing, his steps on the wood deck and crunching through the manufactured snow.

"She's asleep," Finn says, approaching behind Poe and stopping. Just outside his personal space. "It's safe now."

It's supposed to be funny.

"Finn," Poe says. "I want to go home."

It feels like cowardice, so he doesn't turn around and look. He doesn't want to see Finn's pity or disappointment or resignation. Poe knows, somewhere, that this is either the end (even if it doesn't die now, somewhere down the road, this weakness will re-emerge), or the scene where they overcome. Maybe nothing so dramatic as changing everything but - permanence.

It's a chance, Poe thinks, to make this for life. Like wolves are expected to do.

Finn steps closer. Poe can feel him hesitating.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Poe has to hold back his nervous grin - it's not really a smile, more like the vestigial instinct to show his teeth at anything that makes him uncertain. 

"You can tell me anything," Poe says, glancing over his shoulder. All he can see is Finn's chest, sweater-clad and solid looking.

"I want to go home too," Finn admits.

This surprises Poe. He turns halfway, and then Finn wraps his arms around Poe from behind, comforting. "But I felt that way too right after I left the First Order. I wanted to go home, for everything to be normal again, like it was before I left. I didn't even care that my reason for leaving was a good one."

Poe leans back. Finn had come to his door with clear desperation and he could still smile even then. He takes a deep breath.

"What do you think of as 'home' now?" Poe asks.

"It's still evolving," Finn admits, but his arms are strong and solid around Poe. "But I think it involves chickens, now."

Poe manages a laugh. His nerves ease back a notch - nothing's going to change at all between them, and he does his best to remind himself of that. It may have only been a few months, but they've been through a lot together already.

"I don't think she likes me," Poe admits.

"She's a baby,' Finn says. "Her concepts of 'like' and 'dislike' are undergoing a lot of change. Just because you're in the same category as spinach today doesn't mean you can't change her mind tomorrow."

"I don't feel any connection like you do," Poe says, feeling like it's a damning admission. "I just hold her and - there's a baby. Breakable."

Finn turns Poe around in his arms and looks down at him. "I'm not one of those people that's going to say 'how dare you not like a baby'. It's different when it's your kid than when it's - and I mean we barely know anything about Willow."

"Willow?" Poe asks.

"Yeah," Finn says, and grins at Poe. "Like 'Sticks' right? But cuter."

"I can't believe you're going to name her after an 80's movie," Poe says, feeling the ludicrous silliness of it start to knock him out of his funk.

"We can't call her 'baby' forever," Finn says. "And it's not permanent, Mr. Jones, just like - until we get her back where she belongs."

Poe gives him the validity of all the points he's made. After all, Finn had consented to both of them taking Indiana Jones' surname as their supposed matrimonial joining, which Poe had only proposed as a wild joke.

"Willow it is, then," Poe allows.

"Just get to know her a little better," Finn says. "Trust me, you two are a lot of like. She's got a big goofy grin, too. You'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Have a Ho-awou-ling good Friday the Thirteenth! :D


	14. Chapter 14

Poe wakes up late the next morning, feeling lazy and groggy; as if he's gone to excess the night before, even though all he'd done was stand on the balcony and watch others ski. There's no reason to get up at the crack of dawn, and he doesn't have a job that he actually has to go to. In theory, they're both on leave - a sort of strange, ironic maternity leave, following the adoption of their daughter.

_Our daughter._ Poe thinks, finding the prospect still somewhat less exciting and heartwarming than he had at the start of the year, when it was only a theoretical proposition. He rolls over out of the covers, and wonders if he's ever going to get used to this.

Something catches his awareness, as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom attached to their bedroom - now that was something he might get used to. He pauses, listening. 

There's the familiar click of claws on the wooden floor, and Poe's blood goes cold. Has the First Order found them, already? _Where's Finn?_

But then the explosive sound of a baby's laughter fills the space, and the answering playful yip, and Poe realizes, with some strange mixture of amusement and concern, what's actually happening. He second guesses himself twice as he rinses his mouth and steps out into the living room where her crib and playpen are set up.

Finn's in wolf form, big and dark brown and shaggy furred - Poe wonders if this is going against the 'no pet' policy of their rental cabin - and mugging playfully, gently, for Willow. She has her hands buried in the ruff of fur at his neck, probably pulling verging on painful, trying to pull herself up to standing as she scoots her diapered-and-pajamma'd butt over the smooth floor. There's a look of pure joy on her face that Poe couldn't have imagined would be any sort of response to 'giant wolf'; but maybe she had some experience with dogs.

"Finn, buddy," Poe says, exasperated. "Don't teach her to grab werewolves."

Finn turns around in her grip, giving Poe a winning look, mouth open in the canine version of a grin, eyes bright, and Poe's heart melts a little. Willow releases her hold in the ruff of Finn's neck to enthusiastically pat her hands up and down over his shoulders, making baby sounds in single repeated syllables, and Poe guesses from the way the look on Finn's face changes from happy to faintly concerned, that she's stronger than he'd thought with those tiny fists slapping audibly against his back.

Poe, in spite of himself, chuckles as Finn looks askance at him. "Well, you made your doggie-bed, bud, you gotta lie in it." 

Finn curls a whine at him, a sort of 'aww, come on,' noise, and Poe follows his nose to the kitchen for coffee, leaving behind the continued excited squealing and thumping of infant-on-canine affection.

The first sip of coffee really makes him feel better, and when he returns to the living room he takes pity on Finn and scoops Willow up off the floor - maybe a little faster than he should have, since two small handfuls of brown fur come with her, and she scatters one on Poe's sweatshirt with one mysteriously moist hand, and stuffs the other into her mouth just before he can catch her. 

_It's probably not the worst thing she's eaten._

On the floor, Finn rolls over and shows his belly, ready for his morning dose of attention, so Poe gives in to this, too - if he's going to be the family doormat today he might as well embrace the role - and reaches out one socked foot to get the good spots - right along the side toward Finn's back, and on his belly. 

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep encouraging her with all this horseplay," Poe said. "I used to demand 'doggy back' rides from my dad until I was like 8."

Finn gives him a strange look, and then gets up again, disappearing into the bedroom to change form in private while Poe sits on the couch and endures baby-spit-covered Finn-fur dropped into his coffee. 

_Is this normal? Is this a normal family thing?_

It doesn't feel right to try and correct her - probably Poe eats more than his fair share of dog-and-wolf fur anyway, given his lifestyle. He fishes it out again, at a loss what to do with it, and finally he just wipes it next to the swath already adhered to his sweater as Willow babbles approvingly.

"You like that, huh?" he asks her. "Good, 'cause you started it."

Finn reappears in his jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, dressed casually but mostly dressed, and settles down on the couch next to Poe, making himself comfortable. 

"So tell me about these doggy-back rides?" Finn asks, mischievous. He twists the words just a little into something naughty.

"I'll show you sometime," Poe promises, giving him an answering look. Finn ruins the moment with an expansive yawn, and it fades from flirtation down into comfortable affection easily, like turning three circles before settling down. 

"How early was she up this morning?" Poe asks.

"Six," Finn says. "But she took a nap at nine."

Poe, surprised, looks at the time - it's past ten, and he can't think of a time in his life he's slept that late since he was a teenager. Certainly not after he'd gone into the military - there, an early morning was mandatory. Basic Training had been the last time - it's a bittersweet memory. 

The whole experience so far has been this cloud of uncertainty and careful distance. How was Finn so certain he could do this? Poe feels like he's running blind into the wind, trying to follow something elusive. 

"You got some, uh," Finn indicates his own shoulder by way of pointing out the baby-spit-glued fur on Poe's sweater.

"Huh," Poe says, pretending to be surprised. "Well that doesn't really match, does it?" 

He turns over the warm, firm sack of baby body to Finn, feeling her weight and unresistance a little bit like sacks of flour he's known in the past. He feels no real attachment, not even when she turns her eyes back toward him, the baby-blue they had probably once been fading and changing in that eerie way of toddlers. Her fingers are in her mouth, her expression soft and plastic and _baby_ but somehow trusting and entreating in the same instant.

Poe feels no compulsion to take her back, and for a moment there's that void of _everything_ that roils inside him when he deals with her, wavering on the line between giving in and accepting whatever role it is she needs and holding himself back from something he knows, at his core, he'll have to give up eventually.

Poe gets up to change his sweater.


	15. Chapter 15

Poe dials the number, feeling exposed. No one is in the lodge but him, but he hasn't used a phone in a long time, and the last time - well. It hadn't been bad, exactly. Halting. Uncertain.

It's late, but his father answers the phone and Poe freezes up a little.

"Hello?" Kes says, and Poe isn't really sure how to start. The man on the other end of the line sounds like a stranger.

Poe knows he could hang up and leave it that way. Maybe forever.

"Hey dad," he says instead, uncertainly.

"Poe?" Kes asks, surprised. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Poe says. _More or less._ "Sorry. I'm okay, I just-" 

He wanted to hear Kes' voice, but it isn't what he hoped for or expected. The comfort and reassurance of _home_ don't come back to Poe, and Poe realizes that it's been gone for a long time.

"How've you been?" Kes asks, forging ahead into the awkward, longing silence that Poe has left him. His tone is low, with the sort of repentant quality that it takes on in Poe's presence since Poe's discharge from the Air Force. 

"Strange, honestly," Poe says. "Do you have some time?"

"Yeah," Kes says, with fresh surprise. "I have time."

In the years since they've last spoken, the rift between them has almost grown comfortable. They're unfamiliar with each other, and as Poe outlines the events of the last few months, it has an almost confessional quality to it. Kes listens quietly, but Poe can almost feel his presence there, on the other end of the line.

"So he knows about you?" Kes clarifies. Poe can't decipher the tone.

_Intimately and completely,_ Poe thinks, feeling a little wave of alarm at that, as if it is a fresh notion all over again.

"Yeah. Finn's okay with it, he's a good guy."

"How's the rest of the pack?" Kes hones in on what Poe glossed over.

"Uh," Poe says. "Divided. Most of them are okay with it, some would only take issue with something impossible, and some just like to see me suffer."

Kes absorbs this quietly, and if he has any opinion of it he keeps it to himself.

"Anyway, there's a lot of other stuff going on," Poe feels compelled to continue, to defend his pack the way they won't all defend him.

"The First Order is getting delusions of grandeur," Kes agrees, "But they'll figure out they don't have much of a chance if we can keep a unified front."

"You heard about all that, huh?" Poe asks.

"There's a few of us in intelligence," Kes says. "Since this can't exactly go up the chain - or to the government - it gets out to those of us who need to know."

Poe shouldn't be surprised Kes has a good place in his pack, as long as Poe stays out of the picture. He was always well informed because he's steady, he makes good decisions. Poe thinks he'd make excellent alpha material, even - but perhaps that's with the old rose-tinted bias of any son for his father. 

"What if it's a not-so-united front?" Poe asks. "The packs were willing to look the other way this time, when they bent-"

"No one is eager for a conflict," Kes says. "Once the lid is off for us, it'll be damn near impossible to get it back on. All the pent up petty feuds and past slights..."

"That's my point," Poe says. "We're _not_ united, and the First Order knows that. They're using it against us."

Poe stops, with a little difficulty. _This isn't why I called._ He takes a deep breath. Kes isn't arguing with him. He shouldn't be trying to convince his father of anything.

"Sorry," Poe says. "I know you know all this already."

"Beyond all that, what's on your mind, kid?" Kes asks. It's an old exchange, going back to Poe's youth. To a time when they'd talk freely and easily, and Poe would drop the weight of his young world at his dad's feet with utmost confidence that his father could help him sort out the mess. It conjures up images of sitting together in the late summer, when Poe had still held out the illusion of normality for his future.

"Finn and I are in an unusual situation," Poe says. "There's a baby, and we're on the run, and-"

"Poe," Kes says, firmly, stopping him.

Poe winces, wondering if Kes is going to scold him. If his father will either harshly - or with cutting kindness - suggest that he's as unfit to parent as he's been feeling the last few days.

" _You_ have the girl?" Kes asks instead, in an urgent undertone.

"Uh," Poe says, his thoughts fluttering away like startled birds. "Yeah, we do."

There's a long moment of quiet, and then Kes continues in a careful, soft tone of voice, warning Poe to play along in an old 'let's fool mom' sort of conspiracy they'd started in Poe's childhood.

"Congratulations on your _adoption_ going through," Kes stresses, and Poe catches on.

"Yeah, we're - well, actually, that's what I called about," Poe says, figuring his father knows something he can't say right now. Maybe word about Willow had reached him through the same intelligence channels he'd mentioned before.

"I need advice," Poe admits. "I mean I didn't expect - everything kind of happened before I was ready and like, I can change a diaper and make a bottle but I don't know anything about being a father and -"

Poe hesitates, gathering his thoughts. "If I don't commit to this a hundred percent, how terrible is that?" 

Kes hesitates, but Poe doesn't sense any condemnation in it. The urge to say something to fill the thoughtful silence almost chokes Poe, but he holds his ground, gives his father time to line up his thoughts into words.

Finally, Kes says, "So you already know how to change diapers?"

"Yeah," Poe says. "It's not rocket science. Finn taught me everything I couldn't just figure out."

"You're one step ahead of where I was when you came home," Kes admits, confiding it like a secret between equals.

"Really?"

"Yep," Kes says. "That's the big secret - no one really knows parenting until they have to do it. For a lot of guys, that means off the deep end."

It surprises Poe. His father wouldn't lie to him, but he might try to soften the truth. In Poe's youth he'd always been calm, composed, never raised his voice no matter how much trouble Poe had gotten into - and sometimes, that was a lot. For all that, Poe had always known where his boundaries were, even as he gleefully broke them at times. Kes was never unprepared for that. _Did he really feel just like I do now when I was a baby?_

Poe leans back, and the pay phone cord draws tight.

"Well," Poe says, stretching the word. "Listen, jumping in with no idea has left me kind of a nervous wreck. I don't suppose you could give me a couple of tips, one dad to another?"

There's a heavy silence that follows, full of something that Poe can't quite interpret, before Kes continues. Instead of shutting Poe out, he welcomes him back in instead.

"Well," Kes starts, "the first thing I can tell you is, always change a diaper at an angle."


	16. Chapter 16

Finn sees the change come over Poe slowly, in increments of moments or instants. He knows - he can read Poe well enough by now - or maybe _already_ is a better way to think of it - that he can see Poe thinking about each instant as it registers and passes.

Once, when Poe is jouncing Willow on his knee, up and down with his hands carefully and protectively looped around her middle, and she transitions seamlessly from hysterical, rollicking laughter to spitting up in a truly spectacular fashion, Finn sees the instant of surprise and revulsion to the warm, wet, predigested baby food sliding down the shin of his jeans transform to patient affection and he thinks - _aha_!

Finn knows that Poe is too kind to keep his guard up forever around the baby, though he has an idea why Poe wants to. In some moments, especially when Willow has her bright blue-turning-green eyes on Finn and his heart seems to swell up in his chest with an affection that's almost painful, Finn has to remind himself that this is all temporary. It's easy to forget; dangerously easy to feel more attached than he probably should.

But then he sees Poe drawn into the spell too - slowly, surely. The way he leans in as if hanging on her words when she babbles at him, summoning the kind, happy wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when she points with one small extended finger. The gesture is clumsy, but clear indication of what she wants - Poe, usually to pick her up. Willow is all touch, all the time. Her small, patting hands flap against Poe's face, her tiny strong fingers curl into his hair and pull until he's wincing and laughing at the same time.

She scratches her tiny pink nails against Finn's nose in a clear exploration of the dimensions of it, and then looks up past the contrast of her pudgy hand grabbing and releasing over the wide bridge of his nose. Finn can almost see the bridge of understanding slowly building in her mind - _this is you, that is me._

It's one of these moments that Finn thinks there's no recovery from. It makes all the diapers, all the drool, all the moments when she's rough beyond her size worth it. It's a captivating spell of instinct, and it's easier the more familiar her presence is, the more she entwines with their lives. Even her scent - baby and oatmeal and diaper-plastic, sometimes powder - is becoming tangled into their own.

As this happens, Poe slowly rises up out of his funk. Over the course of a couple of weeks he stops oversleeping, trading a fare share of baby-related work for other chairs. Poe's stopped disengaging, too. Catching himself on the verge of attachment and seeking isolation instead. He still vanishes some mornings, but Finn sees that he comes back a little lighter, with a renewed outlook.

_He's talking to someone,_ Finn thinks, and briefly wonders who- but he knows that Poe will tell him when he's ready.

It's after one of these talks in the afternoon before nap time - rapidly becoming a family affair - that Poe approaches Finn with his 'let's talk' expression.

Finn emerges, over sharp nonsense protest, from the cairn of plastic baby blocks Willow is erecting on his chest and pays attention. Poe sits on the couch and scoops Willow up into his lap to quell her upset. She has a block in either hand, one red and one blue, the toys barely two weeks old but already attracting grime in the recesses around the designs.

"So, I think you and I need to talk about the full moon tomorrow," Poe says.

Finn perks up, ready to hear Poe's thoughts. He's been eager for a little alone time, just him, Poe, and their instincts...

"I think you should lock me in a kennel," Poe says.

Finn's thoughts trip over themselves and crash to halt. He looks at Poe carefully, checking for signs of humor - but it doesn't seem like a joke or the set up for one. Poe looks completely serious for once, and Finn sits up the rest of the way, scattering blocks.

"Uh," Finn says, "why?"

Poe turns his eyes down and away from Finn and onto Willow.

"I can be kinda - wild, you know? Unsocialized," Poe says. It's a residue of something Finn hasn't seen in a little while. Shame and uncertainty, a lack of faith in himself.

"Poe," Finn says, "you're not gonna hurt-"

"Maybe not on purpose," Poe says. "Maybe not even myself, but we're on new pack territory, buddy. Lando knows, but I'm sure he hasn't told anyone. If someone sees me as a wolf and puts it all together, we'll be out - if we're lucky. Right now, what's most important is to keep Willow safe."

Finn sits back, digesting this bitter mouthful. He remembers the bruises and bite marks on Poe's body when Finn had come home from the howling, and hates to think of it happening again.

"For now, we're safe here," Poe says. "I don't want to jeopardize that. Trust me, buddy, it's way less likely they'll notice a complete absence than one too many female werewolves."

Finn guesses so, but he still doesn't like it, not the idea of Poe alone and not the idea of going out without him. It makes him feel restless, and echoes down into the wolf-part of his mind. Having a family shouldn't put such a divide between him and his mate.

"Can't we just keep you inside like you did at home?" Finn asks.

Poe looks at Willow again.

"Buddy, I don't know if we can get a babysitter, and we'll have to be sure she's protected from us _and_ everyone else."

Finn still doesn't think they'd hurt her. Maybe it's naive - he knows that most werewolves seek isolated places, where the chances of hurting someone they didn't mean to - or getting _shot_ by a normal - are minimized. He's heard a few old tales of werewolves taking children on full moons. It was part of why rigid discipline and regimentation was the focus in the First Order and insistence on the ability to have absolute control since their territory was urban. 

Since coming to meet the members of other, more rural packs, Finn's started to believe the stories about uncontrollable ferocity and danger are more a method of control for the First Order, rather than real truths.

A way to make them believe that they needed the First Order - like the way Poe sometimes believes he's' the cause of, or capable of such bad events.

"If that's what you really want," Finn says.

"Just until we know how it will be," Poe says. 

When thinks about it, he realizes that in all the adjustments and rearrangements of their recent life, Poe has not voluntarily transformed even once. He's bottling his wolf up again, learning to distrust her - himself, really - before even giving her a chance.

Finn outright embraces his wolf-reaction to Willow. They share the mindset of - _small, pack, protect, nurture._ He wonders why Poe can’t, or if he’s just shut out that aspect of his nature so tightly, she can’t even communicate through the cracks.


	17. Chapter 17

Finn returns to himself in the morning, curled up and comfortable at the foot of the bed, aware of the long night behind him and the satisfaction of the wolf in the back of his ind.

He stretches out, kicking off the blankets and casting around to get his bearings. Finn is - unsurprisingly - naked. He’s also alone in the bed and only then does he remember what Poe had asked him to do.

Finn sighs heavily and hopes that one time will be enough to convince Poe that it won’t be necessary in the future. He pulls on his boxers and decides to check on Willow first. It’s still early enough that the air is chilly, and Finn pulls on his bathrobe, paws the heat up a little higher on the thermostat and heads for the second bedroom. 

Willow is still asleep, and as Finn approaches his foot comes down on something round that rolls awkwardly away. 

He stumbles, catching himself against the wall with a dull thud. The lumpy, fist-sized object doesn’t roll very far. At first, Finn can’t identify it. He’s sure it doesn’t belong here - it’s not a toy.

The object is grey-brown and the surface looks dull and dusty - a stone? There’s several of them. Finn can see piles of them on the floor surrounding Willow’s crib.

Confused, he crouched down and lifted the stone - it was lighter than he expected, and had some give, a few darker spots over the surface. Finn holds it to his nose and sniffs.

A _potato_?

He looked up at the scattered piles on the floor, confused. Why was Willow’s room full of potatoes? 

Finn crossed the room and lifts her out of her crib, relieved to find that she seems unaffected by whatever had delivered the spuds. She wakes up slowly, with a string of babble that may soon form words, Finn thinks. It raises the dilemma of what to get her to call them. ‘Dad’ would fit best with their cover, but Fin’s not sure what the line should be in regards to asking an infant - or, well, sort of forcing one - to go along with a charade about her parentage.

It wasn’t like she could understand any of this. It might already do some kind of harm when they had to return her to her real parents.

Finn carries her downstairs, and starts to make his way to the dog crate where he’d left Poe, when he encounters his mate - still in wolf form- and no longer secured.

She is, in fact, asleep in front of the gas fireplace, nose buried in her soft, grey tail and with her back aimed at the radiant warmth of the hearth.

The picture is so serene that Finn almost doesn’t worry about it. Her breathing changes when Finn gets closer, and one golden eye opens over the fluffy fringe of her tail.

“Alright, Poe,” Finn says. “How’d you get out?”

It seems to take a moment for the question to penetrate - she looks up at Finn first, just thumping her tail once or twice in idle greeting, before the human part in her mind catches up. 

Her tail stops wagging, pausing mid-motion as a very human expression of uncertainty crosses her features. she looks an accusation at Finn.

“No,” Finn says. “I didn’t let you out. We locked it, remember? I had no thumbs until I woke up.”

Willow makes a happy noise when Poe gets up, and she extends both her hands, performing a daredevil lean away from Finn’s body when Poe approaches uncertainly, giving the baby a cautious sniff as if she might regret it.

Willow seizes Poe by the ears, wrapping their black-tipped pointed ends in her meaty fists and hanging on with a delighted enthusiasm to the suddenly resigned wolf.

“So I guess we know you’re okay with the baby,” Finn says, reaching out to pry Willow’s fists very gently away from Poe’s ears.

Poe gives him a sceptical, but resigned look. She moves out of the room, presumably to return to her human form, and Finn does Poe the favor of turning on the coffee maker with Willow balanced on his hip. He gets her into her high-chair, and by the time Poe returns - looking completely exhausted and as if he hadn’t had a proper rest in weeks - the coffee pot has half brewed.

“The crate’s trashed,” Poe says, low and careful. He looks embarrassed, and he won’t meet Finn’s gaze. 

“What happened?” Finn asks, spooning out baby cereal into a bowl for Willow to both eat and compose a mess with.

“Chewed through,” Poe says, with a hollow-eyed look. He presses a thumb into his own mouth, feeling curiously along the line of his molars. “I think I chipped a tooth.”

“Jeez,” Finn says, more surprised than anything. “Are you okay?”

Poe gives himself a once-over. He’s dressed again in his version of pajamas; just sweatpants and a T-shirt. Finn can see a couple of scratches - nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days - but nothing worse.

“I’m okay,” Poe says, cautiously. “Is she okay?”

“Willow’s fine,” Finn assured him, placing her food on the tray and spooning the first few mouthfuls in for her before she takes over and begins delivering cereal to her own mouth in messy fistfulls.

Something strikes Finn while Poe pours himself a coffee.

“Her crib was surrounded with potatoes, though,” he says. “Do you know anything about that?”

“What?” Poe asks, some combination of wolf-in-the-headlights and disbelief.

“There’s a whole pile of potatoes in Willow’s room,” Finn clarifies.

Poe turns an adorable, furious shade of pink, and decides that dealing with produce in the nursery is not a job to be done before his first cup of coffee. He presses the resort-logo cup against his mouth and holds up his finger as he passes Finn, heading up into the second story. Finn can hear his footsteps go into the nursery and then pause. 

The pause goes on for a long time, then Finn hears Poe sigh a long, slow exhale. Then his steps come back down the stairs and Poe disappears back into the kitchen and refills his coffee cup before rejoining Finn in the living room.

“So, okay,” Poe starts, and then stops with a vaguely pained expression. He joins Finn at the kitchen table, sitting down.

“Okay?” Finn asks. “It’s not that big a deal, Poe. Just potatoes.”

“Yeah, I guess I kind of have a thing about potatoes as a wolf. I really - like when she gets frustrated about being shut in, it used to be that sometimes, I - she - _we’d_ just eat a whole bag of potatoes.”

Finn can’t stop himself from laughing. “What?”

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, sitting back. “I guess it is pretty funny. I don’t know why they’re all around her crib, though.”

“You’re resource-sharing,” Finn says, realizing what the gesture means.

“ _What_?” Poe asks, facing screwing up in confusion. 

“Sure,” Finn says. “It’s like an - an instinct. Making sure the pups are fed. Your wolf probably can make the connection that Willow doesn’t - or can’t - eat raw rabbits or something, but potatoes are safe.”

Poe sets his coffee cup on the table, looking a little mortified, and scrubs both his hands over his face. Willow babbles and points both her cereal-covered hands at Poe, as if she was perfectly willing to demonstrate how he was incorrectly covering his face with breakfast.

“I don’t know how to do this at all,” Poe says.

“You’re doing okay,” Finn assures him. He wishes he knew a way to reassure Poe that everything is okay, that he was so cautious and considerate there was really no danger of any real, serious mistakes. Finn isn’t really sure where the concern comes from. Maybe it’s just a bad case of first time parenting jitters.

“I dunno,” Poe says. “Maybe, but I just-”

He trails off, and then gets up like he needs to do something urgently with his hands. He goes to the sink and wets a cloth with warm water, adding a little hand soap and coming to gently - very tenderly - mop the mess off Willow’s hands and face, which she greets with vague protest.

“I guess it’s just that I’m worried people will treat her the wrong way because of me - or something will happen because of what I am, and she’ll get hurt,” Poe says, letting off the heavy load of his thoughts in an unexpected rush. 

“Did people hold it against you as a kid?” Finn asks, sensing that this is something Poe really needed to talk about.

“Some did. Parents more than other kids, but it translated across generations, too,” Poe says, folding up the cloth and using a relatively clean side to wipe down the tray while Willow grabs handfuls of his hair. “If I can keep that from happening... well...”

Poe hoisted Willow out of the chair and up against his hip, lifting her up and looking her in the eyes.

“I wanna keep it from happening,” Poe affirms. “And if I can’t, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to do it at all.”

Seeming to realize how serious he’d made the conversation, Poe turns an apologetic smile over his shoulder toward Finn. 

“Uh,” he adds, in an effort to lighten the tone of the conversation. “Potato instincts or none, I guess.”

Finn thinks he can follow the logic, though he’s not sure he likes it. It says a lot about Poe’s past.

“Dad says he felt almost the same way,” Poe admits, juggling Willow in his arms until she’s situated comfortably against his hip. “That there was nothing he could do about what was happening - I mean, if even the adults are part of the problem, what can you do about it?”

Finn thinks his first instinct - kick the adult’s ass - is probably wrong. Instead, he focuses on a different part of what Poe said.

“You’re talking to your father again?” he feels a tentative hope - Finn wants this to be a positive step, but he knows not to be too naive. Life was very rarely clear-cut or defined in good and bad by themselves.

“Yeah,” Poe admits. “I just - I guess I wanted some help to understand all of this. And when I was little, he was great.”

Finn listens, trying to take his cues from Poe. He thinks that by combination of body language and the uptick in Poe’s tone of voice that the experience has been a positive one.

“And he said...?” Finn asks.

“It’s easy to worry a lot when they’re little,” Poe says. “But that’s easy stuff to worry about. Choking or touching a hot stove - or you know, things you can try to prevent. But then, they take their first steps away from your side.”

Poe lifts Willow up overhead until she laughs, and then sets her down when she bounces in his grip, reaching toward the kitchen floor. 

He picks his coffee up again, finishing the cup before he continues.

“That’s when you realize how little power you actually have.”


	18. Chapter 18

“How long can this go on?” Poe wonders, watching snow fall on the empty ski slopes. 

“The forecast calls for eight to ten inches,” Finn offers helpfully from the couch.

Poe turns away from the window to look at him and finds Finn grinning at him with enough of a twinkle in his eye to suggest he’s just deliberately baited Poe. His own smile answers, instinctively.

“That’s not what I meant,” Poe says.

Finn pats the couch cushion next to him. “I know what you meant. Come here.”

Poe answers the beckon, too, telling himself it’s not really a sign that he’s trained, even if he answers hand signals. He eases down onto the stiff, decorative lodge couch, missing the run-down and comfortable plaid number he has at home. 

Finn pulls him close, draping an arm around Poe’s shoulders and leaning against him. It soothes something primal in Poe, the wolf-part of him that’s begun to crave contact - not just Finn’s steady, protective presence but also the unusual, heavy and warm weight of Willow sleeping on his chest or resting in his arms.

“It’ll go on until they find her real parents and we gotta give her back,” Poe continues, answering his own first question, unable to stop thinking about it. 

“Does that worry you?” Finn asks, pulling Poe closer still, into his lap. 

“I mean,” Poe says. “This kinda changes everything, doesn’t it? She goes, and then-”

“Then we go back to Leia’s pack, guarding the border in our little cabin in Maine,” Finn suggests, leaning in to kiss Poe’s neck, distracting him, keeping his mouth close to Poe’s pulse-point.

“Do we really?” Poe wonders, but Finn’s touch sends the thrill of submissive excitement through him that it has since they’d first gotten intimate. Poe realizes how long it’s been since they’ve had a chance for this.

“I mean,” he continues, riding along on the rails and momentum of his thoughts as his eager biology tried to ground him.

This gives Finn pause, and he leans back. Poe wishes he could just shut up; there was time before Finn had become such a stable fixture in his life that he could leave things unsaid and they wouldn’t sit as restless as a howl in his chest or catch in his throat.

“I mean, the pressure’s really on now, right? We know we _can_ take care of a kid, that - I dunno, no one is gonna buckle under the pressure and eat them. Neither of us is getting any younger. So - I mean we go back and we know all of that. But the rest... we hadn’t been together very long when all of _this_ -”

Poe gestures helplessly around the lodge; the toy-strewn living room encompassing their entire current situation. 

“I guess I just wonder if we really have this without the pressure or if the pressure - all this cart-before-the-uh-wolf situation is going to do permanent damage to our future,” Poe says. “It makes me nervous. And now that you’ve - well, you’re so _happy_ with her.”

“Aren’t you?” Finn asks.

“Of course,” Poe admits. “She smells funny and puts more food in her hair than in her mouth. I wish she’d throw up on me a little less. But I _like_ Willow. I like being there for her. But it’s not like - like when I adopted B.B. There’s no guarantee of the temperament or health or - anything, and I’m not sure I could do this forever.”

Finn cupped his hand against the back of Poe’s neck, comforting him by soothing down all those old reprimands under his warm, flat palm. His deep brown eyes meet Poe’s. “You don’t need to do it forever. Just until they’re all over eighteen...”

The joke is delivered with just enough irony to hit the mark, penetrating Poe’s worry enough to wrench a bitter laugh out of him.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Poe says.

“Well of course not,” Finn agrees. “But it’s not all changing diapers and baby-proofing the house.”

Poe breathed out, but it didn’t help his tension. “What if I decide it’s not what I want?” 

Finn looked at him, eyes sweet and serious. He is thinking, but it makes Poe uneasy that there’s no immediate answer.

“Just because I _can_ shouldn't automatically mean I have to,” Poe continues, feeling like he was floundering. Like he might drown.

“This is a situation with a lot of safeties built in-” Poe starts to go on.

“Poe,” Finn interrupts, relieving him of the immediate urge to keep filling the silence. “It’s okay.” 

Poe takes a breath, to fight that vague reassurance. Finn’s grip tightens on the back of Poe’s neck, keeping him quiet. Finn leans in, bringing their foreheads together to touch gently.

“I wish I could help you stop worrying about the future,” Finn says. “Or you’d at least worry about it _with_ me, rather than without me.”

“I guess it’s been just me for so long,” Poe admits.

“We’re both going to make these decisions together,” Finn assures him, pushing his fingers through Poe’s hair. “I’m not going to just decide we need a kid and bring one home.” 

“But,” Poe says, “you do want kids.”

“I’m willing to be patient,” Finn tells him. “And - well. No matter what happens, I think I’ll still feel like Willow is a little bit mine. We may not be her parents, but she’s been our kid for long enough to affect us.”

“You can’t really mean that’s enough,” Poe says, thinking that the sentiment was nice, _now_ , while Finn could still hold Willow. While she was still a part of their foreseeable life.

“I’m not sure yet,” Finn admits. “But I’m not in a rush. You’re right that we should give ourselves time first, time to be together.”

He pauses a beat, then adds, “aren’t we lucky that we don’t have to worry about having a baby by accident?” 

“I dunno,” Poe says, relaxing a little. “The last one was kind of a surprise.”

“For both of us,” Finn agrees, smiling at Poe. “Been building that up a while, huh?”

Poe realizes he has been since they’d arrived here on the Smuggler’s Run Resort. He settles against Finn’s chest, glad that even admitting all of this hasn’t really changed Finn’s opinion of him. 

“I don’t know if dad’ll still talk to me without a reason,” Poe realizes, and Finn’s arms tighten around him protectively.

“Not so sure about that,” Finn says. “I mean, I don’t know your dad, but I don’t think he’d talk to you every day about Willow and parenting unless he was looking for any excuse to keep talking to you now that he has the opportunity.”

Poe hopes so, though it surprises him that he wants to keep all of these points of contact - almost like a real pack.


	19. Chapter 19

The call comes in the middle of the night, and a runner from the lodge comes to hammer on the door of the cabin. Poe and Finn both jerk upright together, Finn feeling the half-roused wolf at the back of his mind, agitated by the unusual buck in routine.

“Who is it?” Poe wonders groggily.

“Dunno,” Finn admits. He yanks on his sweat pants and takes a deep breath. Downstairs, the knock repeats. It sounds less urgent the second time.

At the door, Finn finds the Cloud Pack leader, an older black man with all the charms of his youth intact.

“Uh, Alpha Calrissian,” Finn says, surprised. On his guard. “What can I-”

Finn hasn’t seen him without his customary serene confidence before. Usually, Lando is wearing the sort of smile that very tame wolves have. It’s a charming thing - a good lure for tourists who liked to think they were getting truly close to the wild side.

“Alpha Organa is on the phone,” Lando reveals. “She said it shouldn’t wait until morning.”

“I’ll go get Poe,” Finn says.

“It’s trouble, isn’t it?” Lando asks.

“Probably,” Finn admits.

“I can stay with the baby, if you want to go with him to take the call,” Lando offers.

For a moment, the guard-hairs on the back of Finn’s neck stand on end. He feels the irrational fear and distrust bolstered up by his protective instincts. He knows there’s not a lot of logic in it - if Lando wanted to sell them out to the First Order, he could have done it ages ago. It’s more about Finn being aware of how vulnerable she is.

“Relax,” Lando assures him. “She’s safe with me. Leia would kill me if I let anything happen.”

Finn would be. Leia can be terrifying. He heads upstairs and finds Poe dressed and half-packed. Like he was ready to fly out the door any instant. 

“Leia’s on the phone at the lodge,” Finn tells him. “Lando says he’ll watch the baby so we can both go.”

Part of Finn hopes Poe will tell him to stay, to watch Willow and finish packing. Instead, he looks briefly uncertain, then nods. “Better we both know together.”

They leave the half packed suitcase and trek through the new snow to the lodge, where only one solitary light is on at the table with the corded phone on it - a relic from a bygone era.

“Alpha?” Poe asks, picking up the handset that’s sitting on the table. He turns up the volume on the headset some, so that Finn can hear her answer.

“Poe,” Leia’s voice on the other end of the line. It’s late, and even Finn can tell she sounds tired. “Are you and Finn alright?”

“Yes,” Poe says, looking back at Finn as it to double-check. “We’re alright, ma’am. what is it? Lando said it was urgent?”

“The first order was here,” Leia says. “They were looking for the girl.”

Finn feels a sinking feeling, like his stomach was anchored to his boots.

“Are _you_ okay?” Poe asks.

“I’m fine,” Leia says. “They found nothing, so they didn’t dare touch me.”

She sighs into the phone audibly. “I think they took Jom, however. Everything’s in a disarray. There was a fight at the border.”

“A fight? With who?” Poe asks, tangling the cord around his fingers. Finn recognizes the gesture as an anxious one.

“I allowed a delegation of three to search our land,” Leia says. “They claimed with the high council that we had taken one of theirs. A girl. So I allowed them to look - that’s why we sent you away.”

After a pause, she continues. “But they didn’t follow the rules. Several more pack members tried to sneak in across territory lines. Jess and a group of ours held it, but several of us were injured and Jom Barell went missing outright.”

Finn doesn’t like the sound of that. 

Poe asks,“Do you think he joined them?”

“Jom’s an asshole,” Leia says, flatly. “But if he tried to join the First Order, he’d find he’s bitten off more than he can chew.”

Finn watches Poe rub the back of his neck, like it hurt.

“More likely he went too far, tried to give chase after the order to pull back. I’d bet they took him captive, which is why I called.”

“He’ll give us up,” Poe says.

“He doesn’t know much, but it might be enough,” Leia agrees. “I want you two to move again. I’ve gotten in touch with High Councillor Mon Mothma, to appeal our case. In the meantime, it’s better if you two are on the move.”

“Understood,” Poe says. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what- uh,”

He gave a sidelong glance, and Finn echoed the motion, as if they were both double checking that the room was empty.

“What exactly the First Order is after the baby for?” Poe says at last. It sounds barely disguised to Finn.

“Rey is looking into it,” Leia says. “But I haven’t heard back from her yet, either. For now, our concern is safety. Hers _and_ yours.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Poe says. “We’ll get on the way again. When should we contact you?” 

“Tell only Lando where you’re going. I don’t want to know yet. I’ll call him when it’s not such a boiling pot up here,” Leia answers.

Then, she hesitates before adding, “and be safe. If the First Order’s willing to start breaking rules of this magnitude, we’ll have to expect they’re willing to do anything.”

“You be careful too, ma’am,” Poe says. He trades a look with Finn when he hangs up.

“Guess we better finish packing,” Finn says.


	20. Chapter 20

Lando returns custody without an incident, though Finn finds him holding Willow and entertaining her on the couch. 

“She had a wet diaper,” Lando explains. “Sorry I kept her up afterwards, but I had a little nostalgia and I thought you might have to go, since Leia sounded so urgent on the phone.”

“We do,” Poe says, resignedly. 

“I have three girls, you know?” Lando explains. “Never thought I’d feel that empty nest thing until the youngest went off to college.”

He passed Willow over to Finn with an exaggerated groan of effort, and then stood up, dusting himself off.

“Is Leia alright?” he asks, tellingly. Wistful affection is written on his features - he must truly be old friends with Alpha Organa.

“She’s alright,” Finn assures him. Poe and he had been mostly quiet on the walk back, briefly and grimly arranging who would pack what. “Things are shaken up over there, and she has some hurt people.” 

“It’s that damn First Order again,” Lando seems to know instantly. 

“Yes, sir,” Finn says, agreeing. He no longer feels even the slightest tinge of loyalty to them. “i’m guessing you’ll hear about it, as soon as she sorts it out.”

“What can I do to help you two?” Lando asks.

Finn looks around at the signs of occupancy. 

“Help me pack,” he says, setting Willow down in her playpen, despite her tired protest. He and Lando begin gathering toys off the carpet into a neat bin that served as a toy box. Since arriving, her toys have multiplied from just a few basics to a respectable collection.

They’d been settling in, he realizes, despite how temporary it had all seemed. Denning. The top barely fits on the tote, and Willow protests seeing her familiar things disappear inside, reaching out one opening and closing hand and shrieking a protest on an ascending level until Finn retrieves her favorite stuffed animal - a grey wolf with very pullable ears - and puts it into her hands. 

Thus mollified, Willow sits down and puts her fingers into her mouth, clutching the wolf against her and watching them with round, tired eyes.

Between he and Lando, they fold up the high chair and the baby bath and get them in the truck. The crib proves more difficult.

“And I thought it was hard to put together,” Poe laments. Finally, between the three of them, they get it to fold down and into the back of the truck. All in all, it takes less than an hour to demote this place back to vacation cabin. Their home sits in the back of Poe’s truck in totes and suitcases, and Poe covers it over with a tarp to keep the snow off.

They all hesitate, then.

“We’re supposed to tell you where we’re headed,” Poe says. 

“What? Will Leia know too?” Lando asked, sounding surprised.

“No,” Poe says. “She doesn’t want to, yet.”

Lando looks slightly put-upon.

“It’d be better if I didn’t,” Lando says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve got a lot to lose if they come sniffing around after you.”

“I know,” Poe says. “I’m sorry.”

Finn wants to shake Lando, to tell him everything will be fine, that they are very far away from the Order, and they’d have to pass through many other territories to get here. 

But he knows too well how determined and doggedly single-minded they can be.

“Do me a favor,” Lando says. “Wait ‘till you get there, then call back. It’ll buy you time if they get here before you get there.”

It’s smart; a smart tactic that puts Lando in a tight spot. He won’t be able to give information he doesn’t have, no matter the duress. Finn hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“Okay,” Poe says, looking at Finn to see if he has any protests. “We’ll do that. Thank you, Alpha Calrissian.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lando says. He pauses to peer in the cab, waving at Willow in the back seat. “I hope you two - _three_ \- can come back some time to have a real vacation. You know, put on skis. Hit the slopes. I’ll give her a discount on her beginner lessons.”

He turns a brilliant smile up toward them, both challenging and resigned to the future.

“We will,” Finn says. “Be safe, Alpha.”


	21. Chapter 21

As they take the winding road down through the mountains leaving the ski resort, snow drifts heavy and lazy down from the sky. Poe has to keep it slow, snow crunching under the chained-up tires. 

“So where _are_ we going?” Finn asks. He yawns, sounding tired, and Poe _feels_ tired - like they’d both only gotten half a night’s sleep.

Briefly, Poe misses the time in his twenties when that would have been enough. “My father’s.”

Finn goes quiet, digesting this. He looks, when Poe glances at him, like he has about a hundred questions.

He starts with, “does he know we’re coming?”

“I plan on calling from the road,” Poe says. “It’ll be a long drive to California.”

“Are we - we’re not going all the way in one surge?” Finn asks.

“No,” Poe says. “We’ll stop along the way. I wanna keep my nose to the wind, in case the situation changes.”

“What might change?” Finn wonders.

“The First Order took Jom Barell,” Poe says. “He might give us up - may have already.” 

The car tires crunch through the snow, and they trade looks.

“I hope they fully kick his ass,” Finn says, sounding spiteful.

“If they know for sure you and I have Willow, it probably won’t be too long before they’re searching at my father’s,” Poe says, easing the truck carefully around a turn. “After that, I’m not sure where to go. Mexico?” 

“I think we’d better hope we’re all sorted out before it comes to that,” Finn says.

Up ahead, there’s a big dark shadow in the snow. His lights fall on it in the center of the road, and for an instant Poe can’t make sense of it - some strange snow drift casting a shadow with offshoots?

“Look out!” Finn says, urgently, and Poe steps on the brakes, skidding for a few heart pounding inches while he realizes it’s a dog - _no, a wolf!_ \- laying in the middle of the road.

The old truck stops well-clear, all in one piece and with all four wheels still on the road. Poe, white-knuckled on the wheel, sits frozen for a moment while the _whunk-whunk-whunk_ of the frantic wipers fills the car.

“Uh,” Poe says, when he feels his heart start beating again. 

“Is - it dead?” Finn asks. 

“Maybe this is a trap?” Poe says, jamming his finger urgently on the lock button for his door. They click down with a muffled sound, half lost in the snowy silence.

“Looks more like roadkill,” Finn says.

Poe waits for any sign of ambush. He watches the shape in the snow. Drifts collect on the furred side, and it’s in watching that, Poe discerns that the wolf is breathing.

“Do you think it was hit?” Finn asks.

“Uh,” Poe says. “More important question. Is that a werewolf, or a wolf-wolf?”

“The snow’s got all of my senses dulled,” Finn says. “I can’t smell anything outside the car.”

“Me neither,” Poe confesses. “Are there wolf-wolves in this state?”

“Uh,” Finn says, stretching it out. “Don’t know. Stay here, I’ll go look. If it’s injured, we should probably do something no matter which kind of wolf it is.”

“A witch-wolf would be terrifying,” Poe says.

“ _There_ wolf,” Finn says, in a stiff, theatrical voice, unlocking his door. “There _castle._ ”

“Oh so you know Young Frankenstein but not _Willow_?” Poe calls after him, trying to hold back his worry.

Finn shrugs and heads for the wolf in the road. At the back of Poe’s mind, his own wolf stirs to readiness - his breath slowing, getting deeper as he feels his change looming up. Ready for a fight - it might actually feel like a _relief_ to get all the tension out that way. To really have a target for all of his fear and aggression. 

But Finn reaches his target unhindered, and Poe watches him crouch down, examining the still form of the wolf in the snow. He puts a hand in the dark, wet fur cautiously, feeling for a heartbeat possibly, or for the temperature. Either way, he looks concerned and the downed wolf doesn’t come to life and bite him.

Finn comes back to the car carrying the scent of the strange wolf with him - and something else.

“She’s definitely a werewolf,” Finn says, as Poe comes to the same conclusion. “I’ve never seen a drunk werewolf _in_ wolf form before, but if I had to guess what was wrong with her...”

It’s then that Poe places the other smell - bourbon. Or some variety of whiskey.

“Are you saying there’s a - a blotto werewolf lying in the middle of the road?” Poe asks - out of all the possibilities for this scenario, this is one he never considered.

“Drunk as a skunk,” Finn agrees, sounding as perplexed as Poe feels.

“Huh,” Poe says. “What should we do about it?”

“Well, normally I’d say it’s not our business,” Finn temporizes. “But laying in the middle of the road like that is almost asking to get run over. Plus, I’d like to know why she’s out here. I can’t accept that a stranger is here for unrelated reasons.”

“Are you sure she’s not one of Lando’s pack?” Poe wonders. He’d rather leave her with Lando than - what? Cram her into the footwell of the back seat It would put her far closer to Willow than Poe was comfortable with.

“No,” Finn says. “There’s something familiar about her, but it’s not that. I’m sure she’s not with the Cloud Pack, but I think I know her from _somewhere_.”

“Is she First Order?” Poe asks.

“Definitely not,” Finn says. “But maybe we should just move her off the road.”

Poe sighs. It’s cold out, and the snow promises to keep falling for a while. He knows that the alcohol and cold - even with a wolf’s thick winter coat - is a recipe for disaster.

“I think we have to take her with us,” Poe folds, looking at Finn to see his reaction. It seems to be guarded approval. 

“We should tie her up, though,” Poe says. “Even if she isn’t related to anything else, I’m not sure I trust a drunk wolf in the car with a baby.”

“Do we have anything to use?” Finn wonders, as they both get out of the car.

“Some bungee cables, maybe?” Poe suggests.

He and Finn rifle around under all the baby toys and tarps until Poe finds an old dog leash - he hasn’t needed one for B.B. in ages - and some bungee cords. It’s not much, but it will give them time to intervene if things turn ugly.

They both hesitate as they approach the wolf, looking down and wondering if moving her will provoke her. Poe breaks their inaction by looping the leash around her neck, wincing at the smell of alcohol breathing out of the wolf’s mouth. 

“Jeez,” Poe says, as Finn ties up her paws. “Do you think her liver can handle all of that in this form?”

“Hope so,” Finn says. “We could try and find an emergency vet?”

“I’d rather try an emergency room,” Poe says. “But either one would be just as hard to explain right now.”

“Okay,” Finn says. “Help me lift her. On one - two -”

They both hoist the limp body up between them and carry her back to the car, gently lowering her into the back seat. 

“Jeez, heavy,” Poe says, pulling one of Willow’s blankets over her - one decorated with tropical scenes and warm colors, from last year’s disney movie and featuring a wall-eyed chicken. 

“You’re no daisy when you transform, either,” Finn tells him, swinging the back door closed.

“Are you saying you don’t want to play as wolves anymore?” Poe teases back, hoping to defuse some of his nerves.

“Maybe if you’d let me win now and again,” Finn says.

“ _Let_ you?” Poe starts the car again, checking on Willow before he puts it into gear.

She’s awake, dark eyed, watching the tied up werewolf on the floor with her fingers stuffed in her mouth and her toy held limply in the other hand, looking a mixture of concerned and curious.

_Me too kid, me too._

“What kind of mate are you?” Poe finishes, giving Finn a rakish grin.


	22. Chapter 22

In the earliest morning hours, Poe has almost forgotten that the strange wolf is there. Finn’s adrenaline has faded, and now his dark head is lolling against the passenger side window in sleepy, hypnotized torpor. Willow is also asleep in the back seat, and Poe is watching the black between snowflakes slowly lighten to gray. 

Poe resolves to stop at the first hotel, motel, or cabin campground he sess os he can sleep off the hours of restless travel.

Then, while he’s yawning widely, an indignant squawk from the back seat, and suddenly the rear-view mirror fills with a strange visage. A brown-skinned and whip thin man who sits suddenly bolt-upright with a scoffing indignant sound before toppling again. Startled, Finn springs to life, and Poe’s heart lurches in his chest.

“Hey!” Finn barks. “Relax, sit down. It’s okay!”

“What-” a stranger’s accented and indignant voice answers. “Why am I wearing a _leash_? What manner of torture and perverse-?”

“Hey,” Finn repeats, suddenly inspired as Poe looks for a place to pull over. “I know you - you were at the howling!”

“I’m the personal aide of Chancellor Mon Mothma,” the man on their back seat says. “And this is the most ill-conceived kidnaping I have ever witnessed, let alone been a part of-”

Willow, now awake, eyes him skeptically from her car-seat, giving Finn and Poe an uncertain look as she clutches her stuffed wolf tighter away from the loud, indignant man. 

“We aren’t kidnaping you,” Finn says. “You were drunk in the middle of the road-”

“So you tied me up and put a _leash_ on me? What do you think this is, Pulp Fiction? Do you expect me to squeal like a pig?” The man’s voice raises an octave, and then drops suddenly with a groan as - Poe guesses - he triggers his own headache.

All his fussing incites a similar response in Willow, and then the cabin of his truck becomes a cacophony of sound: groaning hungover aides to chancellors and yelling babies and Finn trying to soothe both.

Poe pulls the truck into a pullout, turning on the hazard flashers and trying to make sense of the situation. With the car in park, he gets out to pull Willow out of her chair and soothe her. 

The air outside is cold and unwelcoming, even though the sun is truly up now, and the snowstorm is starting to thin. He pulls Willow into his arms, managing to quiet her some as he leans away from the car. 

Mon Mothma’s aide is now laying on the back seat, naked, barely covered by the child-sized blanket. He looks a bit peakish, features pinched and pale-ish. He looks like he’s about to be sick.

“Please,” Poe says. “If you’re gonna throw up, do it outside of the car. I’ve done enough baby barf for a lifetime without tending to your hangover sickness.”

“Just give me a minute without any _moving_ or _screaming_ ,” the man says. “And you could lower your voice a little, too, if we’re composing wishlists.”

“Who is this guy?” Poe asks Finn.

“Mon Mothma, you know the leader of the pack council,” Finn explains. “She has two advisors. This is one of them, I’m pretty sure.”

“Sinjir,” the man on the back seat groans. “And you came as one of Leia’s retinue. It’s a pleasure to be tied up and kidnaped by you, I’m sure.”

“You were unconscious in the middle of the road in a snowstorm,” Finn says. “And I didn’t recognize you immediately.”

“Ah yes, I suppose the last time we met I looked rather more like this, and rather less like that,” Sinjir says, keeping his own voice quiet. “I don’t suppose you have any water. Or hard liquor. Or a _hammer_ to complete this bondage ensemble and put me out of my misery.”

“I have some tylenol,” Poe offers. “And I can untie you. Sorry, we’re just-”

“Tense?” Sinjir supplies. “On the run from the First Order?”

Finn gave him an uncertain look.

“Don’t make that face,” Sinjir says, returning Finn’s disbelieving look. “You don’t think they’d let Mon Mothma be in charge of such important decisions if she didn’t know everybody else’s business, do you?”

Fin turned a look on Poe, then, uncertain.

“I was looking for you,” Sinjir explains, as Poe undoes the bungee cords holding his arms at the wrists and his feet at the ankles. “Trying to make it to you before you left.”

“And - what?” Finn asks, as Poe passes Sinjir a pair of extra strength painkiller from the truck’s first aid kit. “You thought you could find us in the nearest bar?”

“That’s terribly unkind,” Sinjir dry swallows the pills. “I was sent for you, and the baby.”

Poe and Finn both recoil, the hair on the back of Poe’s neck standing up.

“All I’m _saying_ is your father - older, sad looking man with a bit of a resemblance but I suppose you look more like your mother - sent me to escort you to him,” Sinjir explains, sounding the sort of petulant that borders on professional.

“Why would he do that?” Poe demands.

“As much a mystery to me as why I woke up on your back seat trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey, I assure you. I thought we were moving _on_ as a species,” Sinjir says. “Then again, we _are_ wolves. If there’s nothing to fight about it’s just a bunch of scratching and licking ourselves.”

In spite of himself, Poe laughs. “I mean, why would he send - you’re not in the military, are you?”

“Spare me from even the thought,” Sinjir says. “I’m quite retired. No, I owe your father a favor or two, that’s all. By way of owing your mother.”

Then it hits Poe, finally sliding into his tired mind. “When you were a wolf, you were-”

“Cursed,” Sinjir says, airily. As if the word implied fluff and air. “ _Afflicted._ The best, worst kept secret of the council, of course.”

“Wait, what?” Poe asks. “You’re the personal aide to Mon Mothma herself and you’re-”

“From the very first change,” Sinjir says, sitting up slowly as if testing the fortitude of his stomach. “Though I wonder how these backwards butt-sniffers - no offense - would respond to the rising incidences of transgendered people. I imagine that would have a sort of similar effect.”

Poe supposes it would. He is still somewhat in shock for the revelation.

“Alright, but - is this only related to my father or did Mon Mothma send you?” Poe asks.

“I don’t believe I’m officially allowed to answer that,” Sinjir says. “Now. Are we going to remain by the side of the road forever, or shall we find some place we’re able to sleep off our respective long evenings?”

“Uh, no offense,” Finn says. “But how will you pay for any of that? You’re - well, naked.”

“Aside from this lovely rooster blanket,” Sinjir observes, lifting it up to look beneath as if to check that he really is naked underneath. “I mean really, do I make the obvious cock joke, or is that too common?”

“Please don’t,” Poe says.

Sinjir lowers the blanket back into his lap and visibly restrains himself from the uncouth joke.

“Don’t worry your lovely curly head about it. I’ve survived this long, I have my ways,” Sinjir assures them. “Though unless Sarongs featuring chickens have come into fashion this year, I might need to borrow a pair of trousers.”


	23. Chapter 23

Sinjir gives Poe a in access code and a withdrawal amount in four figures from an ATM, then waits in the car while Poe retrieves it.

“Isn’t there a withdrawal limit?” Poe ask, as he tries to figure out the whole comprehensive mess his life has become recently.

“I have my ways,” Sinjir explains. “And some good friends at my bank. It’ll go through.”

To Poe’s surprise, it does. He’s got no idea what to make of their new passenger and knowing he has connections to some pretty high council members does little to reassure him. He tries to hand the stack of cash to Sinjir, who holds his hands up palms out, in refusal.

“I have no place to put that,” Sinjir says, shrugging. “And I’ll need to impose on you to do my shopping anyway.”

Finn, now behind the wheel and driving them steadily along the highway, trades a look with Poe of minor disbelief. They’ve left the snowstorm behind, driving through the fresh aftermath. The world always seems quieter in recent snow.

Willow, apparently fully recovered from the shock of someone new in the car, is sound asleep.

“How’d you come to be in that predicament anyway?” Finn asks 

“Well, it’s not so hard to imagine, is it?” Sinjir asks. “I was on my way up to meet you at Smuggler’s Run and I couldn’t get a ride up the mountain. Not so hard to hike, on a normal night. Then it began to snow. I had to abandon my backpack and clothes for fur and speed.”

“But you were drunk,” Finn points out.

“Quite,” Sinjir agrees. “It so happened I had a nice bottle of whiskey in my backpack. Seemed a shame to leave it to its fate in the snow. So, I drank it.”

Finn trades a serious look with Poe. It conveys between them some concern for the sanity of the man in their back seat. Then again, Poe thinks, Finn didn’t seem any less desperate or out of place when I met him, either. He was just sober.

“Okay,” Poe skips ahead. “So dad sent you to bring us to him? Did he tell you anything else?”

“Yes and no,” Sinjir says. “I have information about First Order activities for your father, and he says he has information about the baby for you.”

“Can’t you give it to us?” Finn asks, piqued.

“If I knew it, certainly,” Sinjir says. “But I’m afraid I only barely know that much. Your father seems to think we shouldn’t transmit the information about this on any accessible channels. We have our methods…”

He looked over at Willow, her sleeping form folded carefully into the car seat, mouth soft and drooling into the padding under her head.

“And they have theirs,” Sinjir finishes, a little softer.

“Maybe he’s found her parents?” Finn suggests, glancing at Poe.

Poe freezes up at the suggestion, unsure how he’s supposed to feel about that. Is he supposed to be sad that they’ll have to give her up, or happy she’ll be reunited with her parents or worried—or—?

“Yeah,” he manages, without finding any emotion to really go with that.

Finn gives him an uncertain look but doesn’t pursue it, his following silence suggesting that it will be something they talk about later, in private. Poe lets it live in the uncertain future.

“What about the First Order?” Poe asks.

“They’re getting bolder,” Sinjir says. “Acting with less caution. They took one of your old pack-mates so they must suspect…”

He trails off, pulling the blanket up a little higher. “They don’t care if they cause the fighting to start again. They think that—whatever she is, if they get her back, if they have her, they're going to win.”


	24. Chapter 24

They stop twice; once for Poe to fetch some clothes from the first Wal-Mart they see. Poe finds himself honestly dazzled by it; by the size and scope of the mega-mart after all his time in the back woods of Maine.

He’d been in the military long enough that it’s not a new experience, even the first time he’d walked into the city and understood he lived there hadn’t seemed like as much as the dull skylight-and-yellow fluorescent vastness of this early morning at Wal-Mart.

_Existential dread in the underwear aisle…_

The second stop is at a motel over the state line, far enough off the highway to avoid anywhere the First Order might be looking. A little lodge that looks like it saw far better days in the past.

“Best to stay on the back roads as often as possible,” Sinjir instructs, yawning and squinting but at least dressed. “If you contact your father, don’t mention me, or where were are or anything else that any listeners can use. Best not to talk to anyone else until we reach our destination.”

With that, Sinjir retires to his room, and Poe sees him collapse into bed before the door even swings all the way closed. He feels the same, but Willow needs to be fed and minded. She’d woken up fussy as they pulled in, gasping and winding up from the first fitful sobs into a real fit.

It sets Poe’s nerves on edge, like an oncoming electrical storm. Something he can’t define, but that rattles against his instincts. He settles her in her chair and sets about making her a bottle while Finn tries to soothe her with soft reassurances and her favourite apricot baby food.

She gets quiet at last while she eats, her eyes focused intensely on Poe, as if trying to communicate something to him.

“Do you…” Finn starts, pulling Poe’s attention away, “think we can trust him? That we should?”

Poe has to think about what he means. “Sinjir?”

“Yeah. He says not to talk about him to your father, who’s the only person who can verify his story,” Finn points out.

“Dad’s already warned me to be careful what I say on the phone,” Poe reminds. “But you have a point—of sorts.”

Finn cradles Willow against his chest protectively. “We could go now. Leave him behind. We’d actually be leaving him in better shape than we found him.”

“That’s what makes me think he’s genuine,” Poe says. “And you said he works for Mon Mothma. Do you really think the First Order has their hooks that deep into the council?”

“I don’t know,” Finn says.

“I think Alpha Organa would,” Poe says. “And she trusts Mon Mothma.”

Finn has no answer for that, he just looks at Willow again,a t the ropes and lines of formula-laced drool running down her chin and over her gripping hands. She looks every bit like a normal baby.

“Besides, he’s a cursed shifter like me, and we found him drunk in the snow,” Poe reminds. “That doesn’t exactly make for a good spy.” 

“Or, it makes for an _amazing_ spy,” Finn protests, but before Poe can argue, Willow ejects the bottle and immediately starts crying again.  

Poe rescues the bottle before it hits the dirty hotel floor, but Willow refuses to take it back and her crying reaches a new pitch that sends them both scrambling to diagnose the issue. 

“A burp?” Poe wonders, when Finn’s initial sniff doesn’t reveal a dirty diaper. 

Finn hands Poe a cloth to go over his shoulder, then passes Willow’s warm, heavy, flailing form over carefully. Poe hoists her at the angle he’s learned is best for quick relief and pats her back with his palm. His only reward is deafening screeches delivered in painful proximity to his ear. 

“Her diaper anyway?” Finn suggests after a couple minutes, voice raised slightly over her screeching. 

Aside from the pitch of her cries, this is routine. Finn lays the changing pad on the bed, Poe lays her on it. Finn hands Poe a diaper, takes the folded up old one and puts it in the trash. Normally they can chatter and distract Willow through this process, but today she refuses to be swayed. Her tiny features turn red with the furious efforts of her screaming, her body tense and tight, thrumming with it.

For nearly an hour they jog and shus and pat and walk her, while she makes sounds that tie Poe’s nurturing instincts into an anxious and tightening knot at his throat.

When she finally sleeps, exhausted, Poe and Finn forget about their earlier conversation and collapse into bed.


	25. Chapter 25

She wakes them again at three, a frantic wailing bursting from her—seeming to come full volume from the silence of sleep.

Finn’s nerves are already ragged from it, but he can sense that it does even worse for Poe—that something in the agonized pitch of it blows some dog-whistle in his mate that Poe can’t handle for too long.

“I’ve got her,” Finn says, putting his hand reassuringly on Poe’s back before he gets up. He can feel the sweat there, the tight wind of Poe’s muscles.

In truth, he’s a little worried too, but he tries to rationalize to himself. They’ve disrupted her sleep schedule, kept her cooped up in the car rather than letting her crawl around. She’s grouchy, and overtired. 

Finn goes through the routine; diaper, full. Changed. Bottle—warmed and given. He begins to relax when she gets quiet to drink it, after he wipes her red face with a cool cloth to get the worst of the drool off. He gets the coffee pot going while Poe rouses himself, too.

“You can-” Finn tries.

“Too anxious to sleep, buddy,” Poe admits. “I can tag you out for a shower, the sooner we get on the road again, the better.”

The bottle clunks to the ground in the dimness of the hotel room, and Finn silently agrees that this day had better just start already. Willow screams through Finn’s shower, and he sends a mental apology to any neighbors they might have. When he emerges, dressed, Sinjir has joined them in their quiet misery. At least, he keeps any comments to himself as he drinks coffee out of a white paper motel-branded cup.

When Poe’s in the shower, Finn puts a hand on Willow’s squirming forehead. “I think she’s warm.”

“Well, if she were cold, I’d think zombie,” Sinjir says, in a snidely sullen tone.

“No, I mean warmer than usual,” Finn says, turning his hand over against her head for a fresh gauge. “Does that feel warm to you?”

It’s a dumb question to ask, but Finn’s nerves are fried.

Obligingly, with the air of someone called upon to unclog a toilet, Sinjir gets out of the chair he’d been sitting in and places his palm on Willow’s forehead. Then, hesitates. 

“She’s warm,” Sinjir allows. “But I would suppose screaming like she is is bound to generate some BTU’s.”

Finn feels exasperation warring with his worry and frustration. “That’s not how babies work!”

He picks her up and endures her hiccuping wails and excessive drooling, certain now that she has a fever.

“How would  _ I _ know?” Sinjir demands. 

“She has a fever,” he tells Poe, when Poe emerges from the bathroom, as put together as he can manage with hollows set deep under his eyes.

Willow’s crying winds down to muffled, ceaseless fussing as she crams a handful of Finn’s clean shirt into her mouth and soaks it through.

“How bad?” Poe asks, eyes going dark with worry. He reaches out to verify, cupping his hand gently against her head.

“About a quarter of a cup of whiskey will sort the issue,” Sinjir suggests, with the utterly unhelpful air of someone emotionally uninvolved.

Finn glares at him.

“Just a joke. I would never give alcohol to an infant,” Sinjir says,  lightly. “Not even if they deserved it.”

“We should take her to the doctor,”Poe says. “I mean—this isn’t like her. She might be really sick.”

Finn tries to remember what the procedure had been when he or one of his other packmates had gotten sick as a kid. “Maybe we should try some baby tylenol first?”

“For a fever?” Poe asks, uncertain.

Sinjir offers no further input, but does produce an airline sized bottle of alcohol and pours the entirety of it into his coffee.

“Kids get little colds all the time,” Finn explains, trying to come at this rationally. “If they’re over three months, it’s probably okay unless she runs the fever for a couple of days.”

Both Poe and Sinjir look at Finn like he’s the absolute authority.

“Remember, she’s also not  our baby,” Finn says, somewhat worried about this. “We need a doctor that won’t ask us for her immunization records, which we don’t have, or a date of birth, which we don’t know.”

Sinjir drains his coffee and tosses the paper cup into the trash. “If we get her to your father, I’m sure he’ll have answers. We can find a doctor who’s used to werewolf things. But it seems to me that the sooner we go, the better.”


	26. Chapter 26

They endure six hours of agony  in the enclosed space, before Sinjir begs them to stop so  _ he _ can medicate. The result is a brief stop for more Tylenol in baby dosages and adult, as well as a pacifier at the suggestion of one of the sales associates.

“However do you stand this?” Sinjir wonders, in line behind them with a more-than-pocket sized bottle of bourbon. 

“It’s not normally like this,” Poe knows the words sound both wrote and cliche coming out of his own mouth and he’s powerless to stop them. “She’s normally a very good baby.”

But in the realization that Sinjir of course has no knowledge which he could verify that against, Poe realizes he hardly knows much better. Willow has only been his responsibility for a few weeks. Very unusual weeks, even for an infant. Maybe she  _ is _ more like this than the quiet kid he’s almost come to terms with. He has no metric to average with, beyond his small sample of outlying experience.

“Relax, Poe,” Finn soothes, as he hands the open package of pacifiers to the clerk—one is already in Willow’s mouth to ease her down to just protesting burbles. “It’ll be okay.”

That night, it isn’t.

Willow cries and cries; her fever doesn’t go up and she doesn’t develop any other symptoms. So, they forge on, misery mounting heavy weights on Poe’s shoulders. He and Finn take turns walking her outside the room to give each other chances for a couple of hours uninterrupted sleep, but her distress leaves Poe a ragged pile of anxiety that he can’t close his eyes to. He misses Finn’s solid form in bed next to him.

_ What if it’s chicken pox? Have I had that? What if she wasn’t fully vaccinated and she has something serious? _ Poe tosses over on the mattress and watches the clock numbers increase.  _ Was I like this for my parents? What did they do? How long can it go on? _

Logically, he knows that there is some aspect of parenting that is just— _ like _ this. That there’s supposed to be some agony and sleeplessness and sacrifice. But it’s all supposed to even out; to balance in some book of the ecstasy of parenthood. 

_ Isn’t it? _

This—whatever it is—doesn’t feel right. He can see it’s taking a toll on Finn also, leaving him distracted and quiet. When they get back in the car, taking advantage of a moment when Willow has cried herself to exhausted sleep, Finn’s grip on the steering wheel is tight enough to leave his knuckles paler.

“Not far to go,” Sinjir says, cheerful and red-cheeked with the lubricating alcohol Poe sees him apply periodically when the screaming is at its worst. At least, he keeps from being  _ too  _ obvious about it. He’d rerouted them to Washington, and Poe and Finn were too tired to argue.

They reach Washington like a ragged wave crashing against a rocky shore, spent after all that winding up. Poe feels the weights of the last several days stacked up over him, waiting to crash down.

Sinjir guides them the last of the way and neither Finn nor Poe remembers their earlier distrust or questions. The end of the trail is in sight, even as Sinjir guides them away from the city and onto national park land.

Poe’s father greets them in front of an RV at a remote end of an otherwise abandoned campground. The vehicle looks out of place, and Poe would guess—if he really had time to think about it—that it’s far too cold for camping this far north. Not that he’s ever known Kes to camp. He hesitates, taking in the scene. Kes standing by the door, just as hesitant as Poe feels.

For a moment, even the constant muffled fussing from Willow matters less than the fact Poe has no idea what to do. They’ve spoken recently, even gotten warmer toward each other. Closer than they’ve been for years. 

Kes looks older than Poe remembers. His face has that look of closed assessment as he watches Finn and Sinjir unfold from the truck. He doesn’t know what to do—what’s appropriate.

Sinjir seems to have no such reservations.

“Kes! Where’s everyone else?” Sinjir asks, extending his hand for a hearty shake. Kes finally peels his eyes away from Poe and takes Sinjir’s hand.

“Further in. They live back-country,” Kes says. “Where the sacred ground actually is.”

“Sacred ground?” Finn asks, juggling and fussing over Willow as he gets her out of the car seat. 

“Sure. Important to werewolves,” Kes explains. “It’s said that the very first pack here in America lived here. So it’s protected.”

“Special,” Sinjir agrees, with only a touch of sarcasm. “When the packs were still warring, this place was a haven. No werewolf should shed another’s blood here.”

Finn looks skeptical.

“There’s a curse attached of course,” Sinjir says, cheerfully. “Werewolves and their curses. We’re very fond of superstitions, for being mythological ourselves.”

Poe approaches carefully behind Finn as Finn juggles Willow onto one shoulder to shake Kes’ hand.

“I’m Finn. From the First Order,” He says, then adds. “One pack that doesn’t place much stock in superstition.”

“Different kind of strength in both ways,” Kes says. “Lately I’m not sure all of our beliefs are all that useful anymore.”

They shake hands firmly. Kes adds, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

That leaves Poe on the spot. He offers his hand like Sinjir and Finn had, and Kes takes it, his moment of hesitation past. He pulls Poe forward into a hug, leaning into it. Kes’ arms go strong around Poe’s shoulders and squeeze tight, and despite all that’s happened in the last few days, Poe feels like it will be alright. No matter how naive that is, he surrenders to it.

“Hey kid,” Kes says, warm and soft. “I missed you.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

Kes, the only experienced parent, takes control of the situation adeptly. He gets Finn and Poe into their own section of the camper. He finds a place in the economical space for Willow’s crib.

All three of them are clearly exhausted and no words pass between Finn and Poe as they check Willow’s temperature, which has returned to normal, and clean up her drooled-on clothe and diaper. They have nothing to spare for this but precision and efficiency, and Willow shows no sign that any diversion would stop her fluctuations between fussing and tired screaming.

Finn realizes it’s been days since he and Poe have had any time to themselves. And not that they sort-of do, given the confines of a camper, all either of them can afford—emotionally and physically—is to take care of Willow’s needs and then try to sleep.

Of course Finn’s heard that it’s just like this as a parent. He’s no stranger to listening to parental woes at the lodge, and he remembers what his group of almost-siblings had been through. As he’d also been warned, there’s nothing like actually experiencing it.

Willow settles into sleep with the pacifier in her mouth, her eyelids have been sagging through the whole process. It’s just plain exhaustion that claims Willow down to sleep as Poe and finn sit next to her crib and try to soothe her. 

“I want to sleep for a week,” Finn tells Poe—and he sees an immediate answer in sentiment on Poe’s face.

“Yeah,” Poe whispers. He climbs up onto the raised mattress and pulls off his shoes, looking stiff and tired.

Finn curls up against him, pulling Poe close, pushing his nose against the back of Poe’s neck. He loops his arms around Poe’s middle and sighs out. Warm and comfortable and exhausted enough that the anxiety that’s been building up in both of them can’t win out over sleep anymore.

_ Things are turning around again _ , Finn thinks as Poe’s breath evens out toward sleep and the distant murmur of voices from just outside. Sinjir is updating Kes on the last few days, exchanging point for point with whatever Kes has been up to these last few weeks.

Finn isn’t sure how he feels about that—about the whole thing going on between Poe and his dad—about if he should be involved in it in any way. Why had things gone so sour between Poe and his father? What was the terrible, deep dark thing that happened to this family? 

_ It’s not my business until he’s ready for it to be something I know _ , Finn reminds himself.  _ Maybe that’s never. I can work with all this. _

Finn matches his breathing to Poe’s and sank down into sleep, too exhausted to spend any more time worrying about the future.


	28. Chapter 28

It’s barely two hours later when the baby wakes up screaming again. Poe jerks up off the bed, flight or fight instinct activated by the stress of the situation. He scoops Willow up out of her crib, trying to ease her back from the screaming edge. She’s really worked up about whatever it is that’s bothering her, enough that Poe feels like both their worlds are collapsing. He carries her out into the main room, feeling trapped in the bedroom, boxed in. The crying seems impossibly loud inside.

He sees his father on the alert on the couch, half standing, and Willow is wailing in his  _ ear _ , and Finn follows him through the narrow hallway and into the main area. He feels surrounded by—everything. Overwhelmed. Like he can’t breathe.

Poe presses the wailing baby into Finn’s arms as Finn comes up behind him and before he can think he bolts; out the door and down the stairs into the night. The air is cold, shocking and sobering him. Poe is still shaking, but his mind briefly feels like his own again. His heart is hammering, every instinct battered to waking alertness and overdrive. He can’t fight the problem to fix it, but his instincts and the wolf instincts beneath them are laid utterly bare by exhaustion. His desire to fight or run is raw and visceral, with no moores of common sense or reliable logic to weigh the scales to the norms of civilization again. 

He wants to discard this form and run and run, forgetting everything. HE wants to go home, and if he could, in this instant, he would trade everything good in the last few months for a chance to return to his former functional stability. All of it—even Finn. Even his slowly growing confidence.

Under his skin the change roils up like water suddenly boiling in the microwave, and Poe struggles out of his sweater, out of his suddenly constricting shirt. The change then is irreversible, climbing through and over his muscles, stretching and pulling his body. This time it feels nearly as dramatic as something in a horror movie. Fur and claws and snarling.

A red haze clouds her thoughts subverting them, and she lashes out at the things still confining her body. Pulling and tearing at them like the flesh of prey, until their holds relent. It leaves her mouth tasting of cotton. Around her are the pack-family smells that should be reassuring, but wailing, too, assaults her ears. It further sparks her anger and anxiety, and it was this which sent her other self from the den and away from the comfort of her mate, a thing which neither of them has the power to change or understand. 

In her world a wailing pup meant an empty belly or an enemy threat. She knows enough from her human to understand, however distantly, that these are not the answers to her problems. The pup is inconsolable. With a wolf’s practicality she knows to look after herself is just as important.

She runs. The land here is very strange, an unfamiliar landscape beneath her paws. She follows the road out and finds a place where the trees are in small belts, hemmed in by the hard black stone roads she doesn’t like under her paws. Bright lights flash along these trails at intervals she can’t anticipate, with a frequency she’s not used to. When she looks at the lights her eyes hurt, and after, the darkness is harder to penetrate.

She learns to turn away from the roads where she can, and stick to the trees and underbrush. Passing the distance underfoot is a relief. It unwinds the tensions that have been building her in since the last moon night, when she and her mate had come into the possession of the pup. 

A sound nearby drags her attention away, a rustle and a motion through the brush nearby. A strange, musky-wild scent reaches her. Then, the other animal hesitates. For a moment, they’re both still. 

Then the stranger barks up a clattering series of challenging syllables, yips and barks running up and down a musical scale that tells her it isn’t a wolf; not were nor wild. An urban cousin. Coyote. And she’s trespassing.

Self-certainty floods her. Let the little garbage-eater know what they’re dealing with.

She straightens her back and drops her tail, tipping her head back and letting her answer pour out, deep and resonant, an assertion that she will go exactly where she pleases.

The coyote, wisely, does not answer.

 


	29. Chapter 29

She runs until the sun comes up, and feels a brief, animal surprise that she retains control even after the sky has gotten light. Her human makes no attempt to guide her steps, and for all the miles she’s roamed, she’s neither seen nor smelled any sign of her home territory or pack.

In fact, everything seems different—the small animals here wore different colored coats, and her own light dusty-grey coat seems starkly unsuited to the landscape.

She eats three of the red and brown squirrels and a rabbit. Poe knows that this would never pass if her other half was paying attention, and the sensation of being unsupervised feels heady, leaving her daring and naughty.

With the sun all the way up, she dens down with a full belly and an uneasiness despite the fun of her adventure and sleeps. Her dreams are dark and half-formed things. The wailing of infants and scream of dying rabbits overlapping until she jerks awake and find her twitching paws have dug furrows in the soft, leaf-covered ground.

She misses Finn’s reassuring bulk and the warm-familiar scents of home. The way she knew the territory there and how it was safe, if she was careful. A landscape of familiar dangers, like any wild wolf might face. The things to which the years have adapted her, now at war with her instincts. She has grown used to solitude, but now she has a pack—however small—that accepts her.

There is touch and contact and soft voices, a howl that answers hers with joy and a spirit that aligns with her own. They have hunted together, loved each other, bonded. She wants all of that back, even though it hasn’t been too long since she knew she didn’t need it, that she could survive without it.

It’s all very confusing. She digs the depression she’s sleeping in a bit deeper before she tries to sleep again, but no matter how she tosses or turns, she can’t get comfortable.


	30. Chapter 30

The atmosphere in the camper is tense in the aftermath, but Kes and Sinjir both spring into action.

“Sinjir can you make sure Poe stays out of trouble? Don’t try and stop him, but-” Kes requests.

“I’ll send the mystics back to have a look at the baby,”Sinjir says. 

“Thanks. They’ll know what to do,” Kes says, reaching out in an offer to take the snuffling Willow from Finn.

When Finn transfers her into Kes’ arms, he checks her temperature, looks into her eyes, bounces her a little to try and distract her away from further fussing. 

“She due to eat?” Kes asks Finn,as if Poe hadn’t just run off. As if everything which Finn had just started to feel as right hadn’t turned completely upside down right as soon as Willow started to feel miserable.

“We could try her,” Finn says, feeling awkward in the extreme. He doesn’t know the full story between Kes and Poe, isn’t sure how to relate to Poe’s estranged father. “Is Poe going to be okay?”

“He’s got city on one side,” Kes says. “But on the other, it’s all protected wilderness, and it’s sacred, to boot. Poe’s instincts will steer him right. His wolf’s got good sense. Always has. Wish he’d doubt her less.”

Kes takes the container of baby food that Finn offers, cradling Willow in one arm. It looks like an expert move, and Finn guesses it’s a small window into the past. To before—well, before the distance between him and Poe.

“She have any history of colic?” Kes asks, as he spoons baby food into her mouth. “Poe didn’t say she was colicky, but I’m guessing from his reaction that she’s been like this a few days.”

“We’ve only had her a few—” Finn realizes as he says it. “Well about a month, now. But this is new to the last few days.”

“Fever?”

“Off and on, but always low,” Finn says.

“Hmm,” Kes says, thoughtful and vague in a way that Finn would find irritating if he drew it out. “Chirrut and Baze will know.”

“Who’s that?” Finn asks.

Kess, still feeding the baby, gestures Finn to sit. “Have some coffee first if you want. You look dead tired, and you didn’t get much of a nap.”

Finn does, grateful, pouring a cup from a pot that looks well used. He pours in  powdered creamer and sugar while Kes explains.

“The pack that lives here is trusted with guarding the Sacred Grounds, and maintaining peace within their bounds. Baze is Chirrut’s guide, and Chirrut is a mystic; you’ll see. Neither of them is from around here originally.”

“You said that Poe was safe,” Finn tries to phrase it as a question and only partially succeeds. “Is he going to be trespassing?”

“Not unless he starts a fight,” Kes says. “All werewolves who accept the accords are welcome, if they keep the peace. Sinjir will be with him, too.”

Considering that Sinjir seems mostly to drink and complain that doesn’t reassure Finn much. He wants to go after Poe, to be with him when he returns to himself and ask what it was all about, but for the first time he really feels the tether of taking care of Willow. Poe trusts them together, or he wouldn’t have left, right? But maybe staying around her when it was impossible to do anything else wasn’t the best pressure to put on Poe. They should talk about it.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Finn asks, as he settles down next to Kes, looking at Willow. Her eyes seem dark from sleeplessness, half-lidded and tired. She seems to be drooling almost as much food as she’s eating. 

“Oh, yes,” Kes laughs. He reaches out to pat Finn on the shoulder. “She’s okay. Babies are tougher than they look, and it doesn’t hurt that we’re hard wired to dote on them. She’s still eating, which means that whatever it is, it’s not life threatening. Wait until she starts walking—and falling down. Then your heart will  _ really _ stop a few times a day.”

“She’s standing,” Finn says, a little proudly. “Walking when she has something to hold onto.”

“Seems like right after that is prom,” Kes says, wistfully.

Finn likes him. He sees a lot of Poe in Kes—or perhaps more accurately, a lot of Kes in Poe.

“Why aren’t you part of Leia’s pack anymore?” Finn wonders aloud before he can stop himself.

Kes looks immediately sad, and Finn regrets asking, but he doesn’t retract the question. He  _ should _ know this, before he forges on with Kes, and he should know Poe’s side of the story, too.

“I met Shara—Poe’s mother—when I was on assignment,” Kes says. “I was smitten. I left the military for her. I knew what everyone else thought about her was wrong, and I was going to change the world for her.”

He shook his head, looked away. “I thought we could work out the misunderstanding with Leia’s pack after Poe was born, but it just got worse, and she took it all so he wouldn’t have to. Then she was gone. It was senseless. That left just Poe and I. He was nine. I couldn’t live in the house where she had lived anymore, and he wanted to be a pilot.”

Kes shifts the baby in his arms, wipes her face with a clean patch of her already soiled onesie before continuing, “Miltary pack’s very tightly knit. I thought it would give Poe the best chance to get in with them early. So, I re-upped. I took him with me. It didn’t work out. He hid it as long as he could, but a pack will always know, eventually.”

He passes Willow carefully back to Finn, and for a few moments she’s quiet. She still looks tired, but food seems to have eased some of her upset. Finn’s quiet, too, while Kes washes his hands, processing the information. 

“He fell out of touch. I failed him, and didn’t go out of my way to re-establish it,” Kes says, hands under the running water. “I apologized for that when he called me again, but it doesn’t feel like enough.”

Finn wonders if anything ever will, or if the distance will widen between them again.


	31. Chapter 31

A rustle in the nearby brush pulls her from her half-drowsing state with a growl. She lurches to her feet when one answers, just before another wolf appears from the bushes—a werewolf.

Poe snarls warningly, raising her hackles. The other wolf snaps once, before adopting a nonplussed attitude. She doesn’t submit, but she’s not going to fight. After a moment of confusion, the scent penetrates Poe’s memory. She  _ knows _ this werewolf!

It’s… Sinjir?

Poe relaxes her guard a little, chuffing out a breath to break the tension while Sinjir continues to give her the same look she might give to an overly aggressive duck. 

It’s harder to communicate complicated concepts in this form. Wolves aren’t made for words or philosophy. Somehow, Sinjir manages to convey ‘ _ if you’re quite finished _ ’ so strongly that Poe can almost hear the usual dry emphasis of his voice.

She supposes she  _ is _ finished. It’s not like she can just… stay out here forever.

By some mutual agreement, Poe and Sinjir both change forms. Poe, belatedly, hopes he isn’t in a public park somewhere people might pass by. He leans back against the tree he’d curled up under to sleep. Politely, they don’t look at each other before they’re positioned for modesty. 

“Wood chips,” Sinjir laments tartly as he settles in near Poe. “About the  _ last _ thing I ever wanted on my bare ass.”

It echoes Poe’s thoughts so closely that he chuckles.

“Sorry,” Poe says.

“Next time you need a heart-to-heart, I get to choose the location,” Sinjir huffs, without any real malice. “It will be one with satin pillows and soft fleece blankets.”

Poe, pulling a small rock out from under the meat of his thigh, thinks that sounds more than reasonable. He tosses it into the undergrowth.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“Olympic National Park. I’m actually impressed at how far you got,” Sinjir says. “I’ve had a few drunken wanders in my time, but never one quite this dedicated.”

“I was—,” Poe starts, but there’s no easy excuse. “Running away, I guess.”

“Ah, yes, embracing a life of true wilderness. Perhaps living as a wolf full time, save your days in an off-grid cabin in the great frozen north. Until someone shot you from a helicopter, of course. You could move to Canada! Every hipster's dream.” 

Somehow, over the course of all this nonsense, Poe comes to realize something. “You’re pretty terrible at this.”

“Yes, well,” Sinjir says, without a hint of shame. “I’m not a licensed therapy dog. This is hardly in my skillset.”

“So what  _ did _ you do before all of this, Sinjir?” Poe wonders. He knows he’s avoiding talking about his own problems.

“I used to be an operative, in the old days,” Sinjir reveals, apparently content to let Poe avoid his troubles for the moment. “For the wrong side, of course. Eventually, I came to my senses.”

“How?” Poe asks. “I mean—don’t the other members of your pack care what you are?”

“Oh, of course they did,” Sinjir says. “Yours do, too. But I volunteered for all the most dangerous missions, right from the point where it appeared I carried my mother’s bloodline. Whoever she was, anyway. Things were different. They figured I’d probably die out there. By the time it came up that I didn’t, I was a hero.”

Poe doesn’t feel any better to hear this. It’s not exactly a ‘good’ answer for either of them, nor for anyone else stuck in their position in the future.

“Well something  _ like _ a hero, anyway,”Sinjir dismisses. “It’s very little comfort that I had to justify every inch of my hide to that set of superstitious knuckle draggers, and even now I’d best watch my step and stay where they expect me to.”

“Don’t they leave you alone now?” Poe asks, curiously.

“Mon Mothma and I are working on changing some of the tribal law,” Sinjir says. “But it deals with beliefs and you and I both know those don’t change for laws.” 

Poe, thinking of Jom Barell’s reprimand and the other pack members involved, supposes he doesn’t. 

“But we can educate, if we’re not as afraid of existing,” sinjir says. “If Werewolves can respect laws about fighting each other in general—and  _ most _ of us have—they can respect about fighting each other for specific reasons.”

Poe supposes that’s true, that werewolves are changing—but he feels that there’s a difference between accepting a change that’s vital to their continued survival, and accepting something that doesn’t have immediate, perceivable benefit for the average individual. 

“So what did  _ you _ do before all this?” Sinjir asks, turning things around. “Or was it all altruism and rescuing babies?”

“I guess I just—farmed,” Poe admits. “I raised chickens. I have a garden. A dog. I was more or less surviving on my own as a border guard.”

“Longing for a chance to start a family with your Beau?” Sinjir prompts.

“Not exactly,” Poe says. “Finn and I have only been together a few months, really.”

“Well, I never personally understood the appeal of all those diapers, and the whole idea of carrying that kind of parasite for nine months...” Sinjir shudders dramatically.

Poe feels irrationally defensive. “Is that the only reason?”

“Well, I suppose. That, and you and I are incapable—you  _ are _ incapable?” Sinjir verifies with Poe’s expression, not requiring verbal confirmation. “That can’t be discounted. People tell me I’d feel differently about diapers and vomit if it were the spawn of my own loins, but I have my doubts. I have my doubts that people say that for any reason other than to reassure  _ themselves _ that it’s all worth it. Anyway, the point is moot.”

Poe takes this in, the blase attitude and flippant uncaring, and it somehow feels more comforting than all of Finn’s reassurances that Poe would get there.  _ But is it just a case of sour grapes? _

“Oh no my friend,” Sinjir says, instantly recognizing the look on Poe’s face. “You can chase that rabbit around and around, you know. ‘Would it be different, could it be different, what if--?’ Put it this way—the greener grass still has plenty of piss on it, to be vulgar.

“Just mark your territory where you really want to—or whatever metaphor works for you. What I mean is, and I’m sure I hardly look qualified to give life advice, do whatever makes you happy. If that’s singing lullabyes and sniffing diaper contents instead of getting laid for the next few years of your life—or living as a hermit alone—”

Sinjir pauses his tirade for a breath, and to add, “I don’t recommend that, by the way—just  _ do _ it, and don’t feel guilty about it.”


	32. Chapter 32

Finn is somewhat bewildered by the appearance of the pack mystics. Kes had been right—they aren’t local boys by their accents. And, by the way they approach, though it’s done casually  arm-in-arm, Finn realizes the shorter, slighter member of the pair is blind. 

Secondly, that they’re probably an item. The taller man is introduced as Baze, and the other man as Chirrut. Baze guides Chirrut expertly up the two narrow stairs and into the camper. It’s a light touch between them, but effective. 

“Finn, right?” Baze asks, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

“Yes,” Finn says, taking them in as a pair. Something about Baze is big—he has a presence that seems to even outmatch his actual stature. “Nice to meet you, mister--”

“We understand there’s an unwell baby,” Chirrut cuts in, looking directly through Finn with wrongly blue eyes, filmed over and pale. His smile is a little wrong, like a bad author’s description of a bird they’ve never seen.

Kes emerges from the back room with Willow in fresh clothes.

“I think it’s a cold, or—or, well, we’ve been traveling. It’s messed up her sleep schedule that we’ve been driving so much,” Finn tries to explain, feeling guilty. They were supposed to be taking care of her; when had it become such a mess?

“Hmm,” Chirrut accepts the infant into the cradle of his arms, then juggles her into a new position.

“She’s still eating and—” Finn begins, but it seems impolite to discuss diaper contents with people he only met five minutes ago.

“This infant seems very moist,” Chirrut observes, when Willow unleashes what seems to be a whole mouthful of drool laced with baby food.

Finn wants to explain that she’s a  _ baby _ and drool is part of the package, werewolf or no. 

Suddenly Chirrut eases his finger into Willow’s mouth, and Finn is on the verge of protest except no one else seems in the least alarmed. Willow seems a little surprised, but doesn’t cry.

“Aha,” Chirrut exclaims, moving his finger over her gums. “Good news.”

He trades a ‘look’ with Baze, who answers it blandly and seemingly without surprise. 

Just before Chirrut says it, Finn suddenly realizes and feels like an idiot.

“She’s teething, that’s all,” Chirrut announces. “A frozen ring or a biscuit will help. Even a wet wash cloth that’s been in the freezer a few minutes.”

“That’s all?” Finn asks, immensely relieved.

“Well, of course it’s no big deal for  _ us _ ,” Chirrut says. “We all grow different teeth at least twice a month. But  _ she’s _ never had teeth at all before. It’s an ordeal!”

He smiles again, as Willow chews viciously on his finger.

“I’m so glad,” Finn says, sitting down heavily on the couch. “I mean, I feel  _ dumb _ —”

“Don’t worry,” Chirrut assures him. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Baze and I are happy to help. Aren’t we?”

Baze seems to be the quieter of the two, though Finn doesn’t get the impression that he’s in any way steamrolled by Chirrut’s enthusiasm. 

“We aren’t as young as we were when we were camp counselors,” Baze agrees, half a reminder.

“Thank you,” Finn says. “But I’m not alone—uh, my mate Poe has been helping—”

He suddenly worries if he’s said too much. Does Kes know he and Poe are mates? Finn feels like that’s a conversation that should involve all three of them, but no one bats an eye. 

“I heard he was a little overwhelmed,” Chirrut says, without a hint of judgment. “No worries. Sinjir will set him straight.”

Baze makes a face that looks a little bit like he’s trying to restrain a smile, and rolls his eyes away toward the ceiling.  “I wouldn’t use the word ‘straight’ in conjunction with Sinjir…”

“That’s a terrible pun!” Chirrut scolds. “You know what I mean.”

Finn hopes Poe will be okay. He wants Poe to come back, wants to have a few hours to themselves before they have to figure out what the rest of this is. 

As if on cue, someone knocks on the camper door.


	33. Chapter 33

“You made it,” Rey observes, peering around Kes to see Finn and the others.

“Rey!” Finn greets, surprised and happy to see her.

She grins at him, in a way that’s only a little unsettling given that he knows she’s a witch. “How’s the baby?”

“Teething, apparently,” Finn says, as Rey sweeps in to investigate the baby in Chirrut’s arms. She recoils immediately as if teething might be a catching condition.

“Ew,” Rey says, easing into the kitchen around Kes. “Well, I came to tell you that our prisoner is awake. Sort of near to lucid. You wanted me to come fetch you boys when he was up.”

“When it rains, it pours,” Chirrut says, passing Willow to Baze.

“I’m coming with you,” Baze protests, but he takes the baby with careful hands anyway.

Finn reaches for her. “Prisoner?”

“Well, maybe not technically,” Rey says. “Only until he answers some questions.”

“Is—someone from the First Order here?” Finn worries, cradling Willow closer against his chest in protective instinct.

“No,” Rey assures him, but doesn’t seem to want to offer any other details, instead looking mischievous. 

“We re-captured Jom Barell,” Kes says, cutting in to stop the game cold. “Unfortunately not before the First Order had their way with him. He’s been recovering in Baze and Chirrut’s care since last night.”

“What?” Finn feels his hackles rising. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Been somewhat busy,” Kes reminds. “I was going to tell you both this morning after you’d had some rest and your heads were clear. Things just didn’t quite work out that way.”

“How did you get him here?” Finn wonders. “Are you sure it’s safe? That the Order isn’t tracking him, somehow?”

“I stole him,” Rey says, proudly. “They might guessed based on the information Jom gave them, if any, but they can’t track me. Or him.”

At the bottom of the steps, Chirrut calls back, “Is anyone else coming?”

Finn, still holding the baby, is torn. He wants answers, wants to confront Jom about all of this—but, he shouldn’t leave Willow, or bring her anywhere unsafe.

“I’ve got her,” Kes offers. “I’m going to stay and wait for Poe, anyway.”

Feeling guilty about leaving both of these things to anyone else, Finn nevertheless kisses Willow softly on the forehead and leaves her with Kes.


	34. Chapter 34

The journey back is faster. Poe remembers some of the way, but Sinjir seems to know the area well enough that they don’t have to follow their own meandering scent back. She can feel how confused her human half is when the campgrounds come back into sight. Part of her is hopeful and glad to see her mate again, and part is hesitant.

She’s not afraid of the pup that’s entered their lives, but it’s made a mess of things for her human half in a way that leaves them both anxious. Sinjir, however, doesn’t falter at all. She trots up the narrow steps and rakes her claws against the door until Poe’s father opens it, flooding Poe’s nose with his old, family scent. 

Her hesitation fades and she puts herself enthusiastically into her father’s arms, half wrestling and half full-contact greeting that he answers as if it hasn’t been years and miles between them. He pulls her close, ruffling her ears, wrapping his arms securely around her neck. Poe is aware that Sinjir passes by them and drags her bag into the bathroom to get dressed.

Poe stays for a few long minutes, just leaning into her father’s arms.

“You feel better, kid?” Kes asks, tone low, his hands gently ruffling the good places behind Poe’s ears. “Amazing what a little rest will do, huh?”

Poe realizes it’s quiet, and she can smell the cub’s presence. She lifts her head over Kes’ shoulder and sees Willow watching them from a seat on the floor where she’s sitting up on her blanket with a dishcloth jammed into her mouth and held there in one pudgy fist. She looks at Poe inquisitively, chewing the cloth. When they make eye-contact, Willow reaches out her free hand, opening and closing it.

Poe steps away from Kes and submits himself to the tired pats, and Poe thinks it’s about as close to an apology as either is capable of at the moment.

“Where’d you wind up?” Kes asks, as Sinjir re-emerges from the bathroom.

“North side of the territory,” Sinjir says. “Way up there. Bit of a hike, but everything was smooth. No trouble.”

“I figured there wouldn’t be,” Kes says.

Poe retreats to the back bedroom to change, and finds that Finn isn’t here. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Poe hears Sinjir ask as she starts to stretch her body into its other shape.

“They went back to deal with our guest,” Kes says.

“Jom?” Sinjir asks, surprising Poe. He reaches for his backpack to pull out fresh clothes.

_ Jom is here? How? _

“Mm-hmm,” Kes affirms. “Rey came and said he’d come around. The mystics and Finn went to have a word with him.”

“And the baby seems to feel better,” Sinjir observes, moving on. “The mystics did their magic?”

Poe pulls his shirt on and a sweater over it, and pauses to wash his face in the bathroom. He’s eaten a few wild animals, and it leaves him feeling guilty and faintly queasy. He rinses his mouth out as best he can. 

“Yeah, she’s teething,” Kes reveals, then echoes Poe’s immediate internal response. “I felt like an idiot for not realizing right away.”

_ Just teething, _ Poe reassures himself.  _ Just normal. _

“Did they get anything from Jom?” Poe asks, trying to sound as cool about it as he can. He hasn’t told his father about the attack, but Kes has connections. He might  _ know _ .

“They’re up there now,” Kes says. “But he was rough when Rey brought him back. Conscious might not mean talking just yet.”

Poe feels a mixture of curiosity and aversion to know that Jom is injured. He remembers what Kylo Ren was like, and wonders if the injuries were the result of a fight or something else.

“You okay, kid?” Kes asks.

“I—had a bad experience with Jom,” Poe admits.

“He still up to his old tricks?” Sinjir asks, surprising Poe. “He never liked me much, either. IN my opinion, he was always trying to find excuses for  _ his _ shortcomings in others.”

“It didn’t feel much like that when I was in the thick of it,” Poe says, rubbing the back of his neck in memory.

“It never does,” Sinjir agrees his eyes following Poe’s motion. “A feeling I think  _ he _ now knows well. Would you like to go and gloat a little?”

 


	35. Chapter 35

Jom Barell looks like hell, but Finn can’t summon too much sympathy. He knows this is a pack member, and for that he feels a distant outrage. It’s hard to untangle whether that’s for Jom’s actions against Poe, or for the First Order’s actions against him.

One of his eyes is covered in a heavy padding and bandage, and Jom keeps pressing at it absently while he talks. It takes Finn a minute to realize that the eye beneath is probably gone.

“They were poking around our border guard’s old place,” Jom says, with a glance at Finn. “Leia and Pava did the best they could to cover up any old scents but it was hard to explain where you two had gone.”

“Did you give them anything?” Baze asks, his tone level but not overtly menacing.

“A hell of a fight,” Jom deflects, clearly trying to avoid the memories. “The bastards are really getting brazen.”

“After they took you,” Baze clarifies, cutting through the manic chatter like he might split a log. “Did you give them anything about where Poe and Finn were?”

“No,” Jom says, a little uncertainly. “They—knew, partly. I didn’t know about the baby.  _ They _ knew that. I didn’t have anything to give them except when you left.”

He sighs out and looks away from Finn. “I gave them that. I’m sorry. It was all they seemed to need, but they kept asking questions. Who might help you, who might harbor you. Living relatives.”

“Did you mention Kes?” Finn asks, angry now. Worried. What if they were on the way here right now? What if they found  _ Poe _ out there, alone?

“Yes,” Jom says, more quietly. “But—not this place. I didn’t know about all this.”

“Can they track him here?” Baze asks Chirrut, who gives a shrug.

“I dare them to try and do anything about it on sacred ground while Mon Mothma’s personal aide is visiting,” Chirrut says.

“They don’t care,” Finn says. “We need to be ready if they know where we are.”

“What about any other captives?” Base asks. “Anyone who could be the girl’s parents?”

“The father is dead,” Rey reveals. “When I went looking, I found a body. He was a werewolf, and werewolves killed him, by the look of things.”

“All that trouble for a werewolf child?” Baze wonders.

“Oh no,” Chirrut says, drawing a slightly exasperated look from baze. “She has other power, too. Magic. I’m sure of it.”

“There was a woman,” Jom finally finds an opportunity to answer the question he’s been posed. “But they—I only saw her once. It was bad. I never saw her again, but that place smelled like death and I’m sure it wasn’t all me. I would bet she’s gone.”

Finn’s heart sinks. Both of Willow’s parents were  _ gone _ ? Who could do that to a kid? A  _ baby _ ?

“If you had a scent, could you confirm relation?” Base asks.

“I’d be willing to try,” Jom says.

“What do we do then?” Finn asks the room.

“She’s safe here,” Baze says, and from him the assertion seems steady enough to lean on. “We’ll protect her.”

Jom is quiet, taking all this in with a guilty expression that makes Finn angry. It's’ not his fault—not  _ this _ part—but Finn can’t help but feel that some of what must be overwhelming Poe is a weight Jom added unnecessarily.

“We’ll let you rest,” Chirrut says, picking up on the change in the room and hoisting himself up from his seat. “There’s much to do. We should tell the rest of the pack. Rey, would you be so good as to run and tell Kes?”

“That’s a long walk,” Rey complains, but she looks like she’s going to do it anyway.

“Finn,” Baze says, kindly. “Would you like to come and meet the rest of our pack?”

Finn thinks it's a good idea, and gets up to follow. 

“Wait,” Jom calls. “Finn, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Baze and Finn exchange looks, and understand each other.

“We’ll be at the longhouse when you’re ready,” Baze says, before leaving Finn alone with Jom. “It will probably take some time to discuss.”


	36. Chapter 36

“If you want pity from me,” Finn warns, when he’s sure they’re alone. “You’d do better to save your breath.” 

Jom’s quiet for a long moment, blinking into the statement like he can’t quite understand it. Finn’s resolve to be angry  _ almost _ wavers, but the image of the bruises on Poe’s back is too fresh in his mind.

“I know what you and your bigot friends did to Poe while Alpha Organa and the pack elders were at the howling,” Finn growls.

Jom goes even quieter, eyes downcast, hands bunched up in the blanket. Finn’s just gathering up another rebuke when Jom says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

His tone is so genuine that Finn pauses. He’d never expected a real apology—maybe otherwise and a promise to toe the line. This is—real to a depth Finn isn’t sure Jom had previously been capable of.

“When I did it, I didn’t understand who our real enemy was,” Jom says, smoothing wrinkles in the comforter one-handed. “I was angry and stupid. My world was small. In a small world, very tiny things seem big.”

“You should have thought of that before you did it,” Finn says. “And that’s advice I’ve given to pups under  _ five _ , Barrell.”

“Yes, Council Member,” Jom says, deferring by making himself small, as close to showing his belly as he can in current form and condition. “I see that now. I—my mind’s made up. I’m going back to Alpha Organa when this is all over. I’ll go to the front lines, when the fighting finally breaks out. Where I can do some good.”

Finn sees it as an attempt at penance, and supposes it’s twofold. If Jom wants to make up for his flaws with a pound of his own flesh, the practical Part of Finn knows that fighters will be necessary—and sooner rather than later.

“That’s not what Poe would have asked for,” Finn says, in defiance of his logical self.

“I know. I want to—I asked you to stay so I could ask you--” Jom’s voice is too rough to trip over itself without sounding a little ridiculous. “Can you convince Poe to come see me? I want to apologize.”

Finn sighs. “I’ll tell him you want to see him. The rest is up to Poe.”

“Of course,” Jom says. “Thank you, Council member.”

Finn doesn’t feel like he’s done anything deserving thanks. He turns to go, finding the unfamiliar interior of Baze and Chirrut’s cabin to be no real comfort. It’s cozy and seems like a poor place for Finn’s complicated thoughts with its carefully clear walkways.

Outside, the familiar scent of cigar smoke pulls at Finn and his spirits lift reflexively,a s he follows the scent around behind the cabin. He finds Poe and Sinjir seated together at a wooden table in the small clear space that serves as the cabin’s backyard. They’re both smoking, apparently from Sinjir’s stock unless they’d stopped on the way back. 

“Poe,” Finn says, and the word means a  _ lot,  _ relief and worry and a flood of affection just to  _ see _  his mate again. 

Poe looks up at Finn apologetically, and Finn forgives him instantly, gathering Poe up in his arms and holding their bodies together until their heartbeats align.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Poe breathes, reaching back to park his cigar  in the shared ash tray so he can put both arms around Finn. “I’m okay. Sinjir looked after me. Sorry I worried you.”

“No, I get it,” Finn says. “It’s too much, and you gave me all the signals it was going to be, but we were in the middle of it all. I pushed us there. I’m sorry, too.”

Poe kisses his cheek, and there’s going to be more to the conversation, he knows, but for now they’re okay. They understand each other. They can talk the rest out when there’s time.

“Willow’s fine, she’s with your dad. She just—”

“Teething, I know,” Poe says. “I checked on her first. I felt like an idiot for not realizing.”

“Me too,” Finn admits.”I mean, you don't watch TV, but I don’t know how many sitcoms I’ve seen where that’s the whole plot, and I didn’t even  _ think _ \--”

“Well,” Poe says. “We’re not going to win any parenting awards. Bad news, buddy.”

“Doctor Spock will probably send us a very strongly worded letter,” Finn agrees. “We  _ didn’t _ know more than I thought we did.”

“Who?” Poe asks.

“Who’s missing the twenty year old pop culture references now?” Finn asks.

For a moment, they’re both quiet, relieved to be back together again. Then, Finn remembers.

“Jom’s inside. He’s—injured.”

“I know,” Poe admits.

“He wants to apologize,” Finn explains. “Says he--”

Finn struggles to find a way to explain that doesn’t feel like a tactless sight-based metaphor.

“I know,” Poe says, saving Finn the trouble. “We’ve been here a while. I heard.”

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Finn asks, rubbing Poe’s back in reassurance.

“I don’t want to see him,” Poe says. “I don’t want to feel sorry for him. Besides, it’s not  _ my _ forgiveness he needs anymore.”

Finn accepts Poe’s decision, knowing it’s one Poe will be at peace with. Jom can figure out his own acceptance. 

“You want to go meet the rest of the pack?” Finn offers. “Or just back to your dad?”

“Let’s go meet them,” Poe says. “Sinjir?”

“I’m going inside,” Sinjir says, surprising Finn. “If Barell’s handing out apologies, I’m owed one.”


	37. Chapter 37

The pack’s about as ragtag and interesting as Poe expects. There’s Baze and Chirrut, who Finn introduces as ‘mystics’, a pair that might be unusual enough on their own, but the whole small pack seems to be outliers and oddballs. 

From the start, Poe has a tough time telling who exactly the Alpha is, between the gruff, scruffy and surprisingly young Cassian—a hollow-eyed shoe in for the ‘beautifully tormented’ werewolf stereotype if Poe’s ever seen one—and Jyn. She’s compact, fierce, bright-eyed and angry like her wolf and self have bled together inseparably.

She and Cassian speak over each other frequently, and it doesn't’ seem to unnerve the rest of the pack, much, but it leaves Poe a little anxious, like he doesn’t know where to look. 

Bodhi seems like every submissive nervous complex rolled up into one, but both Jyn and Cassian give him room to speak when he does. The last—Poe would guess unofficial— member of the pack doesn’t even seem to actually be a werewolf. Poe wants to question his presence at such a discussion, but he can’t figure out which Alpha to ask about Kay.

“Her presence will be well hidden here,” Cassian says, seated at the head—or foot?—of the table. No help there, Jyn’s at the other end. “The Sacred Grounds help conceal everything.”

“I’m still not sure I believe that,” Bodhi says.

“They haven’t found  _ us _ yet,” Kay says, drily. “That’s a pretty good sign it works.”

“Or that they haven’t--” Bodhi hesitates, as if just aware of his own strident tone, and he starts again, softer, “haven’t been looking very hard. This could change all that.”

Cassian and Jyn both allow this, giving it due consideration while Kay is clearly unconvinced. 

“We’re protected,” Chirrut insists. “As long as we have faith that we are, we are.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Baze says, with all the weight of a very old argument.

Chirrut smiles without changing which way his attention is pointed. “You used to find it very comforting.”

Neither of the Alphas interferes in the argument, both continue around it, leaving Poe distracted and trying to follow two conversations.

“She’s here now. We already protect the Sacred Grounds,” Cassian is saying. “Why do we do that, if not to provide a safe haven--”

“Even you once knew the comfort of having faith in something,” Chirrut continues.

“Faith requires some reinforcement now and again,” Baze says, as if he thinks this to be final and he wants the argument to be over.

“We have no guarantee that any one but us will fight to protect this place if the First Order decides to move against us with any force,” Jyn argues.

“No it doesn’t,” Chirrut says. “That’s why it’s  _ faith _ .” 

“Eventually--” Bodhi speaks up, taking advantage of a brief lull in the overlapping conversations. “They  _ will _ come for us. Now, or later. Do you want to stand against them after they’ve already conquered all our potential allies, or before?”

“ _ Well _ said,” Chirrut adds, thumping his walking stick on the floor for punctuation, revealing that he’s been paying attention to both conversations somehow.

“We’ll fight with you,” Finn adds, unexpectedly. Under the table, he takes Poe’s hand and squeezes it. Poe feels better, but still uncertain. “If it comes to that. I think we have enough people on the side of peace that we have more defenses than we think.”

“We shouldn’t  _ expect _ that, though,” Baze says. “We don't go to the aid of others, it’s unlikely they would go out of their way to aid us.”

“We provide a service,” Cassian says, touchy about it. Defensive. 

“We do,” Chirrut agrees. “And it would be the same, if we added the child to our pack. She’s a werewolf--”

“And a witch,” Rey puts in, speaking up at last. “Maybe those will cancel out or something, we’re not sure.”

“Either way, she’ll need a teacher,” Chirrut continues. “And a place to be.”

Poe realizes they’re already speaking as if Willow is one of theirs, as if they’re solely responsible for her future, and the relief that floods him is almost a tangible thing.  _ They don’t expect  _ us _ to adopt her! _

It’s been simmering in the back of his thoughts for a long time  now—and the worry has only intensified since he learned that both of Willow’s parents were gone. He wishes he could at least have asked them some questions. But, it doesn’t seem to be a foregone conclusion that Poe and Finn are expected to be her parents now, for what he’d agreed to on a temporary basis to evolve. He’s not sure he’s ready for that. Not sure if the  _ relationship _ is ready for them to be parents. Maybe Poe never will be.

While the pack continues debating the point around him, Poe sinks down into a tired, sad mood. He feels  _ better _ to know that he doesn’t want this, but  _ Finn _ did. Does. He’s always been open with Poe about that, and Poe owes it to him to be open in return. To be fair with Finn, and give him a chance to take steps toward what he wants.

Poe loves him enough for that.


	38. Chapter 38

Afterwards, Poe needs to talk—he doesn’t want to crunch through all his complex emotions for the first time with Finn, and—he’s a little afraid of the outcome, and second-guessing his timing. It doesn’t feel right to tell Finn while they’re still sort of in the middle of everything, but it doesn't’ feel like something Poe should sit on for the entire trip back, either. 

He finds Sinjir back at the little table in Baze and Chirrut’s yard, smoking again.

“Did you get your apology?” Poe wonders, as he settles across from the only person he knows who might have truly sympathetic input for Poe’s situation. Maybe that’s what all the drinking is about. Or, maybe it’s just one of many excuses.

“You know, it wasn’t as satisfactory as I would have liked,” Sinjir says. He offers Poe his lighter, and Poe takes it. “He  _ meant _ it, I’m sure, but I’m far less sure he understands why it’s important to  _ me _ that his behavior should change. I suppose I should just be grateful that it will, even if he is a selfish prick about his reasons why.”

Poe re-lights his previously abandoned cigar, and supposes that Sinjir is far more insightful than he seems at first glance. 

“He and a group of his friends tried to make my life hell, recently,” Poe admits. “It’s like if I was happy living my life, they couldn’t be.”

“Assholes are like that,” Sinjir says. “Any small bump in a road that’s always been glass-smooth just magnifies to them. Even if they put it there themselves, they don’t know how to look for trouble from within. No one’s ever taught them to be self-critical. So they look around for a cause outside themselves. Then they see you or me, making due. Overcoming things. Happy.”

Sinjir takes a long drag of his cigar, and exhales mixed smoke and steam into the air. “Then it starts; if a nice, _ normal _ guy like them can’t be happy, but a freak can… well. The whole world must now be spinning on an axis that favors us. It’s unfair and wrong, and now he’s afraid maybe if we don’t go back into our little place, the world will put  _ him _ there.”

“I don’t want anyone to have to be where I was,” Poe says.

Sinjir shakes his head. “Me either. Such a shame that guys like him won’t listen to us. But the inequality of the world isn’t why you came here. Stop being polite and unburden yourself. I look forward to listening to problems I can relate to; it gives me a chance to talk about my own.”

“Alright,” Poe says, hoping he has a good enough handle on Sinjir’s sarcasm to know he really means that. “What would you do if you were in a relationship with someone who wanted children?”

Sinjir breathes out smoke. “Oh. That.”

“Would you—I mean, for their own good, so they didn’t have to—I mean, to keep them from wasting time on something they don’t want…”

Sinjir makes a spooling motion with one hand, encouraging Poe to reach a point.

Poe starts again. “I thought I could do this. Finn wants a family, and I’d never  _ really _ thought about it until he was, sort of my life but uh—I’m pretty sure now that I  _ don’t _ want to have kids. Ever.”

Poe expects something smug from Sinjir at that, but he’s just listening, paying attention to Poe with surprising earnestness.

“Now that I know that, and I know his wants are different, is it kinder if I let him—if I break up with him?” Poe doesn’t look at Sinjir as he asks, eyes on the light dusting of snow on the ground instead.

Sinjir scoffs. “All that windup for this? Are you hoping to rebound into a relationship with  _ me _ ?”

Poe looks up at that, into Sinjir’s incredulous expression. “What?”

“Is this a high school lunchroom?” Sinjir asks, with a faint smile. “Or are you really asking  _ me _ if you should break up with your fully adult boyfriend?”

“Well,” Poe says. “What he wants, and what I want-”

“Is different, yes,” Sinjir agrees. “But I really think you should let  _ him _ have a say in what he wants to do about that, rather than deciding what’s best for him without his input. I mean, you just said you  _ didn’t _ want to be a parent. Stop acting like his father and start acting like his partner.”

Poe has to stop himself from getting defensive. Sinjir has a point, of course. Finn should be a part of this conversation.

“I guess… I’m afraid of losing him,” Poe says, as Sinjir’s patience plays out long for him. Poe appreciates it. “And I  _ know, _ before you say it, that it’s a stupid idea to give him away because of it.”

Sinjir leans back, his expression softening. “I’m sorry to tell you this is one situation where fear won’t change the outcome, my friend. You might delay it, of course, if you put it off. You won’t be any less afraid when it crumbles out from under you than you are to face it now.”

“You—uh, that sounds like you…” Poe tries to ask. 

“Oh no, I’ve already had my turn for today,” Sinjir says, lightly. Poe is being brushed off. “You can’t keep procrastinating at my expense.”

Sinjir pauses, stubbing out his cigar. “Go talk to him.”

 


	39. Chapter 39

Poe comes to Finn later that evening, as the activity winds down. The pressure of gnawing on things all day seems to have eased Willow’s pain, and Poe settles her down in the crib with a tired, sad expression.

Finn wants nothing more than to pull them together, to tell Poe it is all going to be okay somehow, that whatever the problem is, they’ll work it out.

“We need to talk,” is what Poe says, and Finn nods.

“We do,” he agrees. “You want to start?”

Poe sighs. He sits down on the bed with his eyes on the crib and hesitates for long enough that Finn worries this isn’t what he expects at all. That it’s some _other_ problem he hasn’t expected at all.

“I don’t think,” Poe starts, his voice small, “that I can keep my promise to you.”

“What?” Finn isn’t quite sure he follows.

“We—we talked about adopting after we’d been together a while. So we could have a family,” Poe says, slowly, keeping his tone carefully controlled. “I don’t think I actually want to do that, anymore.”

Poe stops, while Finn absorbs the information, and he looks up helplessly at Finn, exhausted and afraid.

“I don’t think I _can_ ,” Poe says, more firmly. “After all this, I don’t think I’ll change my mind on that.”

Finn sat down next to Poe, feeling heavy. Exhausted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh,” Poe says, a guttural, half-wolf noise that Finn’s heard him make even in his other form. “I was afraid.”

The sound means the same thing from Poe’s wolf. Finn doesn’t like to hear it, especially not in these circumstances, but that doesn’t make it less true. He waits for more, as patiently as he can manage, though suddenly, instantly, he wishes he’d never asked. That they could bury this bone of contention over between them and stomp the dirt down for good measure.

“Couples break over this exact thing all the time,” Poe says, in a rush. “It’s a fundamental - I mean, what we want from life is different. Nobody should take that from anybody, that sort of thing. It’s the kind of thing that _should_ break up a  relationship, without leaving any hard feelings.”

Poe sighs, looking small. Finn wants to pull him close to comfort him, but even the soothing intimacy of pack contact can’t really help this.

“I didn’t know what it was going to be,” Poe continues. “I thought if I tried harder, I could feel something about it. I could get that - magical thing that so many people talk about. I thought the feelings were broken, but I wanted so badly to mend them.”

“Poe, you’re not broken,” Finn says.

“I know,” Poe agrees. “I get that now. But I also guess that means that this - all this - is over. And that I should be okay with that.”

Finn feels like he’s been rabbit-kicked, and the shaky, wavering breath Poe lets out, like all the pressure built up inside him is finally shuddering loose, all the anxiety of the last few weeks is shaking apart like an engine with a loose bolt, leaves Finn’s head spinning.

“Poe,” Finn tries, around the lump in his throat. “Buddy, I don’t think-”

Poe looks at him, all dark eyed misery, and Finn wants to shake him, a little. Finn reaches up, rubbing his hands hard against his own face, trying to dislodge and unpack everything all at once. He’s not very good at this. “You know, when I said I wanted kids, I didn’t really know what that all meant, either.”

“What?”

“I mean, I had kind of this ideal,” Finn continues. “And in some ways what the reality was - _is_ \- is way, way more...”

He can only express it by making a big, circular gesture with his hands. A sort of almost-helpless thing that he hoped expressed how much more everything it had been. “And I know it’s not all like that, but I do know that if I had to do it, I’d only want to do it with you. Because I like you - and you and me - way more than you and me and all of that.”

“What?” Poe asked, looking even more confused. Finn guesses he’d just blown every expectation Poe had built himself up for, regarding this conversation. Good.

“What we’ve got here,” Finn says, doing his best impression of Paul Newmann, “is a failure to communicate.”

Poe’s expression does that thing where it changes slowly from uncertain, to concerned, to outright confused. It’s always been endearing. “Is that... _Cool Hand Luke_?”

Finn’s exasperated. “Oh you know _that_ one?”

Poe nods - but it seems to have snapped him out of his aimless confusion.

“What I’m saying is this,” Finn says, trying to be as clear as he can. “Recent events have made me reconsider exactly what my priorities are for the rest of my life. If you don’t want kids, I don’t want kids with you. I don’t want kids _without_ you. I want the rest of my life to have you in it, with or without kids. But let’s keep B.B. King and lots of chickens. Okay?”

He hopes that’s clear enough.

“Okay,” Poe says. “I hope you weren’t just quoting a bunch more movies at me, because I did not get any of those references.”

“No,” Finn says. “No quotes, no tricks. I said what I meant.”

Poe leans against him and Finn puts an arm around him.

“ _You_ are my family, first and foremost,” Finn assures him. “We’ll work out the rest. I don’t want to do it any other way, okay?”

“Okay,” Poe repeats. He pauses again. “What do we do about…”

“I think the pack here expects to take her,” Finn assures him. “Maybe Baze and Chirrut, or the whole pack as a group.”

“That would be good,” Poe says, relieved. Finn squeezes him closer. “Uh, was that what you-?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “That’s what I wanted to talk about, too.”

“Good,” Poe says. “Thank you.”

“One other thing,” Finn says. “I think maybe we should stay here. If Cassian will have us, I mean.”

Poe doesn’t answer immediately. Finn figures he’ll need time to think about it.

“You’d be closer to your dad,” Finn points out. “I know you just started fixing your relationship.”

Poe nods. “I’d like to stay in touch with him. It’s been a long time. We should fix it.”

“And it would be a fresh start in a new pack. A smaller pack. Younger, less divided.”

“You mean, people who live in weird houses are less likely to throw stones,” Poe says.

“That’s exactly what I mean. Think about it. No matter what you decide, I’m with you, but this could be good for both of us, and if conflict is coming, defending this place is important.”

“Give me some time to think,” Poe requests, and Finn is happy to give him all the time he needs.


	40. Epilogue

“You should do it,” Sinjir coaches, without any real deliberation. “Better to get away from that place they’ve comfortably subjugated you into. And these are good people, here. If I wasn’t official, I’d stay. Hell, I might retire here, if they ever let me.”

The warmth and exuberance of the speech surprises Poe somewhat, but Sinjir grins at him. “If you think they’re willing…”

“Yes. Cassian would never admit it, but the pack is desperate. They aren’t exactly public about recruiting, but they’ve had no new members since Jyn, three years ago. A baby is a nice promise for the future, but more able bodies  _ now _ is the better option.”

Poe’s glad that Baze and Chirrut have agreed to take primary care of Willow. They’re good with her, patient, but the pack’s small enough that he suspects it will be an all-hands-on-deck situation.

As if reading his thoughts, Sinjir adds, “Besides, being a favored uncle is a far cry from being a mother. Better they go  _ home _ at the end of their visit.”

Poe thinks Finn will appreciate knowing  Willow is doing well, too. He sighs.

“I have a dog,” he says. “And chickens. A home.”

“Moving only takes a van and some good friends. You’re friends with a witch now, you know. She might know some ways to get you moved faster.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Poe, but Rey does always seem tog et where she wants to be with surprising speed.  _ Magic? _

Poe’s not sure if he believes in that sort of magic, yet. Then again, he’d never believed things could change for him, either.

“Times are going to change,” Sinjir says. “I hope only for a little while, but there’s no knowing.”

“I know. And I’d feel better to know Willow is safe, too. I can’t be her parent, but I can help her new parents protect her.”

“Well, I was going to say you might as well shuffle one life change into another and get it all over with at once.”

“Like a band-aid?”

“Or a loose tooth, or a mat of fur, whatever metaphor you like.”

Poe chuckles at Sinjir’s theatric displeasure, and thinks about it. He’ll miss Snap and Jess and Kare, and especially Alpha Organa, but he believes in fate more than magic.

“Thank you, Sinjir,” he says.

“Well,” Sinjir laughs. “It’s our curse to stick together, isn’t it?”

Poe supposes that’s as true of werewolves in general as it is for their unique case.

“You  _ are _ going to do it, right?” Sinjir asks, with enough concern that Poe feels compelled to ask;

“Why?”

“Because I already sent Rey for your things.”

-

 

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> -Dedicated to all the lovely people at SWWA who have encouraged me along the way.  
> -Happy October, I'm hoping to post a section a day through the whole month.


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